


Drunken Shenanigans

by Luthienberen



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, First Time, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill in response to this prompt in the Asscreedkinkmeme on dreamwidth: http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1795.html?thread=9476611#cmt9476611</p><p>Charles is jealous of Haytham's relationship with Ziio and seeing how miserable he is, Thomas Hickey helps him get drunk one night.<br/>Then Haytham shows up and drunk as Charles is he kisses Haytham, and is mortified when he realises what he have done.<br/>Haytham's/ the others reaction is up to the filler :p</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is rated Mature for the moment, though it could become Explicit.
> 
> My first Assassin’s Creed fanfic, so comments are appreciated! Beta-read by rae_fa who was excellent in pointing out some spelling & grammar errors!
> 
> \- - -

His cereal was becoming mushy.

If he wanted to eat it while it still had taste and texture he had to actually scoop up a portion and put his spoon into his mouth. Rather than do that Charles instead focused despondently on his tea, sitting on the counter in front of him.

It was in need of milk.

Sighing, Charles grabbed his mug and went to the fridge. Pulling out the container he poured the milk into the black liquid. Charles was aware of how improper this was: milk should always be added first, the brew then poured into the creamy substance. Haytham was very particular about the correct order and Charles was in perfect accord with Haytham.

They even had a number of teapots to use to ensure that this happened. However, today Charles simply didn’t care. Sipping the improper tea, Charles could only dwell on the peculiar lethargy that suffused his being.

All other sensation simmered underneath the crushing weight of his numbness.

As he drank the hot brew Charles rewound the events of just an hour ago. It was impossible not to, no matter how hard  he tried to forget, the images replayed in his head like some perverse film caught in a loop.

Charles Lee could see as clear as it was happening now, how _happy_ Haytham had looked when that Native woman, Ziio, had appeared on their doorstep wishing to speak with the Grand Master.

If that wasn’t bad enough Ziio had been invited in by Haytham and encouraged to sit on their sofa!

Charles trembled as a wave of anger surged through him, as if the hot tea was drowning away his lethargy, permitting his feelings of unhappiness to come to crashing to the fore.

He was terribly angry; not at Haytham…but at Ziio and at himself for being so vulnerable, so weak. He hated how easily Haytham had welcomed the woman back into the fold. Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. 

Ziio had never been in their fold, merely a useful tool that had revealed some information on sites that might contain a Piece of Eden, something they desperately required to stay ahead of the accursed Assassins.

It had led nowhere and Charles was honest enough to admit he had been relieved. To have Haytham look at anyone else with the same approval and even a small dash of admiration that he favoured Charles with, whenever Charles did a good job was…well, it made jealously rise like a cloying brew in his chest and throat.

So life had returned to normal with Charles working alongside Haytham in Abstergo Industries, searching for a way to put a permanent end to the Assassin Brotherhood and bring the world into order.

Then it had transpired that Haytham had shared an intimate moment with Ziio…a fact that Charles had learned from Thomas Hickey of all people.

Charles had to put his mug down as his hands were shaking, causing the brown liquid to slosh near the edge.

The memory of that horrid revelation was a bitter one…

**~~~**

**“Hey Charlie!”**

Sighing in frustration at the nickname, Charles scowled as Thomas draped an arm over his shoulders.

“I told you not to call me that.”

Thomas grinned and leaning close drawled, “Yeah, but who cares? Anyway, Charlie I know something about O’Haytham that I bet you don’t.”

Charles wrinkled his nose in distaste. Thomas reeked of beer.

“You’re drunk man.”

Glancing at his watch Charles shook his head, “And it’s only ten in the morning. Pull yourself together; neither William nor Haytham will approve you slobbering like this in work.”

Charles attempted to shrug off Thomas’ grip and focus on his computer screen even as Thomas’ mention of Haytham piped his curiosity.

Thomas didn’t leave, just laughed and settled in the spare chair across from Charles’ desk. Charles glared at his screen, but suddenly Thomas began singing – off-key – “Haytham met a little birdie and what a birdie it was! Off together they flew and after a long flight they settled into a nest and sang until the dawn…”

Charles hit the wrong key and deleted the report he had been working on for two long agonising days.

_“What?”_

Looking up at a smirking Thomas, Charles felt his chest constrict. “What birdie?”

“Take a guess.”

_The native woman._ Charles trembled, desperate to _know_ for certain.

“Ziio? He…Haytham and her..?”

Thomas laughed and nodded, “Yep, overheard William talking with Haytham who was distracted. William wanted to know whether we could trust the native woman to keep quiet and O’Haytham said that we could. William wanted to know how Haytham could know this-”

“Johnson questioned Haytham?” Charles couldn’t believe the audacity of the man, Haytham was not someone you doubted. He was the one man that Charles had met that encapsulated the Templar ideal: determined, faithful, skilled with both words and weapons. He was honest and good to the men who served under him.

Haytham’s unwavering desire to see order and peace brought into the world was untainted from avarice or cruelty. Such qualities had left Charles desperate to meet Haytham and to be granted the opportunity to work with him was the answer to his dreams. To serve Haytham was a constant source of joy to Charles.

As such to have anyone doubt Haytham’s good word was unthinkable…in fact it was _disloyal_.

Thomas rolled his eyes, “Yeah, because not everyone believes that Haytham causes the sun to rise. Anyway, Haytham said that he had parted on good terms with Ziio after she indicated an…ah…’interest’ in his qualities.”

_No._ Charles felt pain erupt in his hands from the sheer force he was curling his fingers, his _nails_ , into his palms. It was nothing to the stabbing pain and yes, fear, in his heart. He adored Haytham and yes, loved the man more than he ought and while Charles knew that Haytham couldn’t possibly desire him back in the same way, Charles had hoped to impress Haytham enough to always be needed, to ever be worthy of Haytham’s friendship.

Over the last year and a half Charles had started to believe that he was succeeding and the day that Haytham insisted he call him by name, that they were friends, was the best in his life.

Yet now…if Haytham had found someone else, this woman who could offer knowledge Charles couldn’t, could potentially give Haytham a family…then perhaps Charles would no longer be required.

Friendship wasn’t enough; Charles needed to be necessary, to be needed, to be allowed to _serve_.

Thomas must have seen his expression for he quickly sat up and said in a slightly slurred attempt of reassurance, “Hey, don’t be like that! The way Haytham mentioned it was as detached as he normally is over the colour of his notebooks. Total disinterest.”

Charles gasped and cursed his weakness as Thomas, now clearly alarmed, struggled to lean over the desk, scattering Charles’ papers, and gripped his arm in a tight hold.

“Gotta believe me Charlie. Haytham meant nothing by it. Cool your horses, he hasn’t replaced you.”

The fact that Thomas had struck right to the heart of the matter was terrifying and Charles hated how obvious his emotions were. Weakly uncurling his hands, he heard Thomas hiss and saw though blurred vision, the man bite his lip. Breathing heavily, Charles hated himself even as he asked in a faint voice, “It was nothing?”

“Of course!”

Cautious relief sneaked into his heart and Charles chastised himself for his stupidity. If Ziio had meant anything to Haytham surely Haytham would have remarked upon the affair, especially to Chares who essentially was his right-hand man and friend.

Struggling to breathe and clear his vision Charles nodded curtly at Thomas and dropped his gaze to his hands. Blood smeared his palms and stained his nails from where they had gouged into his skin.

“Haytham is gonna kill me,” moaned Thomas.

“No, he won’t. It was an accident,” with that Charles reached for a tissue while Thomas searched for something more useful, namely a bandage.

~ ~ ~

Charles blinked as tears fell. That awful day had been a year ago. Since then Ziio had not been raised in conversation so Charles had considered himself safe.

Haytham and he had fought many battles together amid the bustling ignorant people on the street. Not long after the day that they became friends Charles had come to the end of the contract on his rented flat and his landlord didn’t wish to renew.

Charles had been more annoyed than upset as it was inconvenient to look for new lodgings when the majority of his time was spent in his office.

He had mentioned this to Haytham who had given him an exasperated look as if to say, is that _all_?

_“Just move in Charles.”_

_“Pardon Sir?”_

_“Haytham remember. And I thought the solution to your problem was obvious. Simply move in with me. The house is more than sufficient for both our requirements. We spend all our work and personal time together, so actually living together seems a natural extension.”_

_“But Thomas and William are with us…”_

_“Rather different I think Charles. Well? Don’t you agree it makes sense for you to move into my place?”_

_“Yes, of course Haytham. I can fetch my belongings this weekend..?” If the thrill of being chosen above the rest of their cohort was evident in his voice and beaming face then Charles could surely be forgiven. It wasn’t every day that Haytham - the Grandmaster of the Templars – invited you to share their abode._

_Especially not as his friend._

_Haytham smiled, “I’ll make room and we can shift your things. I daresay Thomas can be of some assistance.”_

They had fallen into a rhythm and apart from Thomas’ teasing and William’s curious glances Charles had been enjoying living with Haytham, sharing their lives so more intimately.

Yet, now after such a long interval of silence Ziio had re-appeared and swept Haytham up into whatever she was plotting. When Charles had aired his concerns (in private, in Haytham’s room) Haytham had said they couldn’t afford to not at least listen to Ziio.

Haytham had clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled. A small shred of pleasure uncurled in Charles at this memory. _“I’ll be careful Charles. Sit tight and await my return.”_

Then the Grand Master was gone, smiling in his charming manner and displaying his noble behaviour when escorting Ziio out of their home.

Left behind he was sure that winter had burst into his life, snatching in a blizzard his friend and master.

Now here he was, drinking ill-made tea and eyeing a soggy breakfast cereal. Injustice at the situation mixed with his anger and jealously at Ziio for returning, for supplying once more the offers of knowledge, of family.

To be precise, for a life without Charles.

The crash of china jarred Charles from his misery and he snarled at the mess of tea, shards of his mug and his blood on the no longer pristine kitchen ties.

Snatching a towel, Charles wrapped his hand clumsily and grabbed a brush and pan. Kneeling he began cleaning.

Dumping the china, Charles started mopping the tiles of blood and tea, yet as he did all he could linger on was Haytham’s all too obvious pleasure at seeing Ziio, Charles’ all too real rival.

Despair and insecurity swelled within until Charles was sure he would burst from how pathetic he felt. Amid his emotional distress a hand landed on his back, almost giving him a heart-attack.

“Fucking hell, Charles, what have you gone and done now?”

Charles looked up, heart still racing.

Thomas Hickey was crouched next to him. An expression of horror and worry was comically graven into his face.

Charles found himself unable to stop his doubts from spilling out like his tea. “Ziio was here. Haytham went with her.”

“Shit.”

Thomas glanced around and back at Charles.

Charles wanted to wipe the concern off Thomas’ face and scrub the wary caution from Thomas’ tone when he spoke, neither emotion belonged there. He also rued the hour that Haytham had handed a spare key to William and Thomas ‘just in case’.

Thomas surveyed the mess shaking his head. “Okay then. How about I finish cleaning this up and afterwards your hand.”

Thomas touched Charles’ face, “And your moustache. How the hell did you get tea there? No don’t answer.”

Thomas dropped his hand. “Anyway, you’re gonna shower. Afterwards, when you look human I’ll take you drinking. What you say? Drown your sorrows?”

Contemplating, Charles finally nodded. Forgetting this entire incident in a sea of alcohol was preferable to waiting anxiously for Haytham to return and confirm he was with staying Ziio. Maybe he would be prepared then.

= = =

It was really far too early to go to a bar, so instead they headed to Thomas’ flat. It wasn’t far from Haytham and Charles’ home, but still further than Charles had a desire to walk.

Thomas thankfully had his car, so sooner than Charles thought they were pulling up to the block of flats that Thomas called home.

Surveying the décor as they walked up the three flights to Thomas’ home, Charles had to admit that it was actually a pretty decent place. The stairs were well-maintained, polished to gleaming and the walls were freshly painted.

 The light fixtures were also securely fixed and when Charles had visited before at night, the glow they emitted was steady and bright. Security cameras also were blatantly positioned in an attempt to deter criminals. In other words, it was an ideal place to live, safe and pleasant.

Charles was simply surprised that Thomas had cared enough to choose such pleasing conditions, as he was a man more interested in living life to the full and knowing where the next drink was coming from.

Then again, he was also a Templar and valued security. One could never be too careful, after all those damn assassins were few in number but tenacious bastards.

“Here we go Charles. Sit your feet up and I’ll deliver you to blissful ignorance in just a few minutes.”

Charles rolled his eyes, typical. “Thanks Thomas.”

Grinning, Thomas flapped a hand and navigated his way through the chaos that was his living room into the kitchen.

Sighing, Charles eyed the sofa. It was littered with magazines and newspapers. The coffee table wasn’t much better: strewn with maps, articles on cars and…

“Really Thomas?” murmured Charles, picking up gingerly a magazine with naked women _and_ men.  Surely Thomas could be more discreet?

Tucking the offending magazine under the car stuff Charles edged some of the mess off the sofa and sank into the soft material.

After a second Charles twisted around and pulled from behind the cushion an old shirt.

_Haytham never would allow his house to be a mess like this._

The automatic thought brought with it the memory of Haytham offering a seat on their clean sofa to Ziio.

Blinking away frustrated tears Charles felt searing pain lance through his chest and lashed out at Thomas who had returned with two beer bottles and a bottle of something else.

“For heaven’s sake, Thomas. Must you live like you’re in a sewer?” He flung the shirt at Thomas who shrugged it off, unperturbed.

“Yep. Now quit whinging and drink up like Dr Thomas ordered.”

Charles glared at Thomas who simply snorted. Snatching a beer from his supposed friend Charles immediately downed the contents.

Gasping Charles noticed that Thomas had sat next to him with a raised eyebrow. “Another?”

“Hell yes.”

Quickly seizing Thomas’ beer, Charles eagerly drank the brown liquid, chasing desperately the forgetfulness it promised.

However, apart from feeling light-headed from drinking too fast Charles couldn’t erase Haytham’s happy smile or Ziio’s enticing words.

Charles eyed the clear bottle. “What’s next?”

“Vodka, my friend.”

Thomas produced two shot glasses – from where Charles had no idea or cared – and poured the crystal stream into them. “Here ya go.”

Trembling Charles tipped it back. Fire burned his throat and settled into his belly. Damn, that was good. Hopeful, Charles took the bottle and poured more.

This time the vodka numbed the fear of Haytham’s loss. The third gulp eradicated it leaving only a peculiar light-headedness and an image of Haytham smiling.

Now that Charles _could_ handle.

“Whoa, Charlie ease up eh?”

Charles glanced up from pouring his fourth glass and focused on a slightly blurry Thomas. A jovial note rang in Thomas’ voice, yet Charles thought he could discern traces of alarm in the twist of his lips.

“Come on, let me get another beer instead of vodka.”

“I thought the plan was to get me drunk?”

“Yeah, but not on a bottle of vodka, I can see why Haytham doesn’t let you drink the stuff now.”

Charles shook his head, “Haytham isn’t here. He’s with her.”

Speaking the truth was like a knife to the heart and Charles felt infuriated that Thomas had fanned the flames of his worry again.

“Right, but not forever.”

Charles laughed, low and harshly. “You didn’t see him with Ziio.” Clutching his precious fourth serving, Charles wiped wetness from his eyes. “I’m nothing.”

Thomas grabbed his shoulder, “No you’re not. Don’t be so stupid. Haytham is a man of few words, but even _I_ can tell he thinks highly of you. Hell, whenever he’s invited anywhere it’s always ‘Charles and I can/can’t make that engagement’ etcetera.”

Charles laughed. Thomas was terrible in his attempt to mimic Haytham’s speech.

He wanted to believe Thomas he really did, but Charles knew how deep his insecurity ran. If Ziio had been one of a string of women then he might have felt safe, but she wasn’t – she was the only one. So he felt very _un_ safe, as if his entire world was on the brink of destruction.

Unable to address Thomas’ encouragements Charles instead gestured towards the kitchen, “Just get me a beer.”

Thomas sighed and snatching Charles untouched fourth glass, he vanished, taking also the vodka bottle.

“Bastard,” moaned Charles. Trapped with his memories Charles just wanted to weep and fuck it, why not? Bending his head Charles allowed his tears to fall, ensconced in misery.

= = =

Charles knew he was drunk, but in that detached way where all cares were long vanquished by the glorious swell of alcohol.

He vaguely was aware of reclining…no sprawling…on the couch with a merry Thomas slouched next to him.

Whenever Charles attempted to gather his scattered thoughts they slipped through his fingers like water. The overriding fear and despair he had felt not long ago, now seemed like a dream and Charles wasn’t entirely sure of the reasons.

At least, he didn’t wish to delve too much into those reasons. After all, that was the point of getting drunk…wasn’t it?

“Stop thinking Charles,” slurred Thomas, “and enjoy the moment.”

“Right you are Thomas.”

Breathing deeply, Charles leant forward and the room swayed with him. Oh shit.

Determined however, not to grant Thomas any material to tease him with, Charles snagged a half empty bottle of beer and sloshing some of it over his shirt managed to catch some in his mouth as well.

“Whoever discovered alcohol deserves to be worshipped.”

Thomas laughed, “At last you see my point. Cheers for that person!”

Waving his bottle, Thomas ended up dunking Charles with his beer. Charles sighed, Haytham wouldn’t be impressed.

Haytham…wasn’t he upset about Haytham..?

Before Charles could snag this wandering memory the doorbell rang shrilly.

“Aw fuck,” moaned Thomas who rose and surprisingly steadily walked to the door to his flat. Charles was envious of his ease. When under the influence of alcohol he became as stable as jelly.

Charles collapsed backwards then immediately straightened ignoring his dizziness.

He recognised that voice! Master Kenway was here.

“Where’s Charles, Thomas? I tried everyone else and no-one has seen him and he’s not answering his phone.”

“Oh, he’s here. Having a party we are.”

“A sober one I see. Charles? Where are you?”

Footsteps sounded.

Wishing desperately to answer, Charles struggled to stand. His legs trembled and his vision was blurry. Forcing his errant body to obey, Charles wobbled around the table and watched in awe as Haytham appeared.

Sight blurry as it was, he could still see how regally Haytham held himself. He radiated power and self-assurance.

Dread curled in his stomach and Charles remembered a shred of _why_ he was drinking so heavily.

He might lose Haytham soon. Terrified, Charles flung himself at Haytham clutching at the well-tailored fabric of Haytham’s shirt.

“Charles?”

Looking up while hanging on for dear life was difficult, focusing impossible. Yet Charles could hear Haytham’s worry. It was a cruel hope that worry, because soon Haytham would leave him behind.

Desperate to have some memento of Haytham, Charles used Haytham’s shirt to pull himself level and before his brain could interfere, kissed Haytham.

Haytham didn’t open for him, but that was fine.

Charles could live with just tasting Haytham’s lips, feeling how firm they were and feeling the press of Haytham’s muscled body as he all but draped his own uncoordinated frame over his friend.

Then the perfect sensation was gone and Charles saw through watery eyes Haytham’s shocked expression.

Thankfully, he passed out before censure could cross that handsome face or angry words issue from the man he admired most.

= = =

Charles awoke and sincerely wished he was still asleep.

A dull ache filled his entire head, very similar to the sensation of going to bed with a headache in the hopes it would wear off and awakening to the certain knowledge that the headache had being going strong all night.

The result: a seemingly innocent ache which actually pervaded his entire mind, causing every gentle shift of his head to explode and let off a horribly dizzy see-sawing feeling.

Charles blinked open his eyes and tried to stand to escape his currently miserable situation.

The entire room swung around him. Gasping, Charles shut his eyes and waited for the nausea to pass. As he waited hazy memories filtered through.

_Thomas. Beer. Vodka. Wine._

Charles groaned. No wonder he felt like he was the rolling deck of a ship. There was a reason Charles never drank vodka, especially not with wine, and he now recalled _why_ , because it took him out badly.

Weakly wiping a hand across his face Charles wondered why he had gone a drinking binge and why Haytham hadn’t stopped him.

Haytham…

Charles wanted to die, or at least flee back to Britain.

Had he truly kissed Haytham, the man he most admired, respected and called friend?  If Haytham hadn’t already decided to leave him then he surely would abandon Charles now after his appalling lack of control.

The despair he had been so desperately attempting to bury swelled again and Charles suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Gasping he snapped open his eyes, but thankfully the room stayed still though the ache in his head did not abate. Charles squinted as he took in the room, breath coming in wheezes.

_Calm down, Charles. This is unseemly,_ was the mantra he chanted internally to himself.

He had no desire for Haytham to think even _less_ of him if that were possible. Agonisingly slowly the vice in his chest loosened, the grey tide of despair slackening a little, allowing his breathing to even out.

Glancing around the room Charles realised he had to be in Thomas’ spare bedroom. Someone must have carried him because the last thing he recalled was passing out after kissing Haytham. He was clad only in his shirt and underwear.

Charles was still capable of disappointment of missing it, if Haytham had been the one to undress him.

The room was surprisingly neat, probably due to William staying here. A watercolour painting of an old-style tavern adorned the wall the bed was against and to the right another picture hung, this one of Boston in its hey-day as a main port.

Sighting the bathroom door opposite Charles knew he had better clean himself up before facing his doom like a man.

Electing to try standing again _carefully_ , Charles gripped the bed with one hand and pushed off. Quickly he braced his right hand to the wall and thus supported stumbled to the washroom.

Entering he switched on the light with great reservations and grimaced against the flare of pain behind his eyes.

Charles waited for his eyes to adjust then with reluctance looked into the mirror over the washbasin.

“Shit.”

Thomas looked better after a night’s drinking than he did.

“No more vodka Charles.”

Breathing deeply Charles pushed past the numbing pain encircling his forehead and ransacked the cabinet right above the mirror.

He salvaged a comb and stole a shaver and foam from what had to be a left-over from when Pitcairn had crashed one night.

Glancing at the mirror Charles grimaced and tried splashing his face with water, scrubbing judiciously with soap to erase the ghastly image. It hurt but hey, it did waken him.

The foam seemed far too white in the glaring light of the bathroom, more like glistening snow than something to shave with – and since when did a razor scraping across his skin sound so _loud_?

The shave didn’t do much, just somehow highlighted how grey his skin appeared and the purplish hollows under his eyes. His blue eyes were as bright as ever but shimmered with pain and loss.

With shaking hands Charles brushed his moustache, tidying it up so it was neat as usual. His hair was a mess. After a moment of struggling with water and comb Charles admitted defeat. A tangled mop it would have to be.

Dropping the comb, Charles tweaked his shirt, sniffing the material. He instantly regretted it as the reek of vodka and beer mingled together formed a truly horrid entity.

Never-mind the headache…Charles fumbled for Thomas’ aftershave and swallowing applied generously.

_The lesser of two evils_ , Charles reminded himself as the pungent aroma assailed him.

Replacing the bottle Charles sighed. He was delaying the inevitable and doing himself no favours. He had no desire for Haytham to think him a coward on top of everything else. He couldn’t bear that.

Grim, Charles borrowed a toothbrush, the minty paste causing the nausea in his stomach to roll dangerously. Spitting Charles wiped his face, peering into the mirror once more, anxious. Well, he was pale instead of grey and the violet hue under his eyes wasn’t so stark, but he still was a vampire who hadn’t drunk blood recently.

Charles was not a man who easily gave up but the crushing weight of realisation was compounded by his shocking appearance. It appeared that in this, the loss of Haytham – of his respect, his trust, his friendship – was too much.

But he could still maintain his dignity even as he withered inside and Charles decided to continue working on his appearance, if he managed to order his clothes then it would offset his pallid demeanour and grant him a thin veneer of protection.

With this thought in mind Charles somehow managed to walk back to the bed without clinging to the wall.

Now that he was more alert he noticed his trousers and socks were draped at the foot of the bed. He couldn’t see his shoes, which confused him, but Charles decided he would worry about that later.

It was slightly cumbersome pulling on his trousers and a moment of dizziness when he attempted to tug on socks standing.

Finally he was prepared and very much like a man heading to his execution Charles sucked in a deep breath, wiped his forehead and with one last tug at his clothes, yanked open the bedroom door and walked out into the living area.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Real life interfered last weekend.
> 
> Beta-read by the wonderful Rae_fa! All remaining mistakes are my own!

 

* * *

 

 

Haytham looked up from the newspaper he was holding when he entered. Charles swallowed, barely suppressing a groan. He knew, just _knew_ , from the sudden heat in his cheeks that he was flushing.

_Damn it all!_

Concern shadowed Haytham’s sharp gaze. “Are you feeling better Charles?” The soft edge to Haytham’s voice caused a brief flutter of hope in Charles, but his doubt crushed it.

_Just the courtesy shown to an old friend._

“A little.”

Haytham nodded, the worry still lingering at the corners of his eyes. “Thomas?” This time there was no softness, but anger.

The change alarmed Charles for he did not understand why Haytham should be furious at Thomas; after all, it was Charles who had behaved outrageously, by becoming terribly drunk and kissing Haytham without permission.

Charles braced his socked feet against the carpet, struggling to focus past the steady ache in his head, “What time is it? Have I been out long?”

Haytham rose from the now tidy sofa and he paced to the edge of the kitchen, glancing back as he did, “Not long. Two hours I should say. Sit Charles. Thomas! Get in here now, with a glass of water and bread.”

Turning sharply, Haytham stalked to the lone armchair and sat. Determined not to upset Haytham any further Charles awkwardly sat on the sofa, eyes downcast.

“Charles, please look at me.”

There was no way he could ignore Haytham, Charles knew not how. He certainly couldn’t conceive disobeying a direct order.

Raising his eyes he looked at Haytham. Handsome as ever, the proper old-style English gentleman: dark hair neatly brushed, shirt and tie impeccable, trousers pressed, back straight, determination graven in his features. The only flaw in his composure was the air of worry and frustration that Charles could detect after knowing Haytham for so long, for living with his friend....now ex-friend… for a year.

Meeting Haytham’s gaze was hard, but Charles forced his worn nerves to do so. He could offer nothing else to the man he admired than an attempt, a show, of strength and character.

Haytham sighed, as if he could see through Charles’ guise. _Of course he can_ , thought Charles sadly, yet with admiration underscoring his sentiment.

“Ah Charles, this is a mess.”

Charles frowned in confusion, however before Haytham could elaborate Thomas entered carrying a glass of water and a plate of buttered toast.

Haytham turned cool. “Ah, one out of two. We’re improving I see.”

“Hey, it’s better than nothing.”

Charles winced. Haytham was clearly not in the mood to be toyed with.

“I would suggest leaving Thomas, before I show you my full displeasure at discovering you abetting Charles in drinking himself senseless.”

Thomas shut his mouth so quickly that Charles heard the click, the danger inherent in Haytham’s tone penetrating even Thomas’ normally brash manner.

Yet Thomas still passed Charles an encouraging look before he fled to his own room. _What on earth?_

“Try a bite Charles.”

Charles nibbled at a piece of toast and fought the wave of nausea, finally managing to push it down and realising it actually felt good having something in his stomach. Sipping the water was equally refreshing past the initial heaving sensation.

Still picking at his toast Charles looked up and saw Haytham studying him. His friend smiled slightly, but Charles wasn’t sure how to respond.

He was terribly confused; why wasn’t Haytham remonstrating him for his behaviour? It was all very peculiar and with his crippling headache Charles was unable to discern the true meaning behind Haytham’s actions.

It didn’t matter, Charles knew he had to apologise. Therefore, he swallowed his current mouthful quickly. Straightening, Charles did his best to appear collected yet appropriately mortified. The last was the easiest as he _was_ mortified.

“I am very sorry Haytham for my actions when you arrived. I would never do that under normal circumstances.”

Haytham actually seemed amused, “You wouldn’t kiss me under normal circumstances? Was it that terrible?”

Charles blinked, caught off-centre, “No…I, I mean that I wouldn’t… it wasn’t terrible sir…Haytham…that is…..”

Charles trailed off, Haytham’s relaxed attitude confounding him. Charles cursed his drunken behaviour, because now he was incapable of even speaking simple sentences.

At his silence Haytham turned serious again.

“It’s clear there has been a misunderstanding and I fear that I am partly to blame.”

Charles knew that had to be the drink talking, causing a hallucination. Haytham wrong? Rarely,if ever.

“Sir?”

Haytham held up a hand and Charles subsided, watching anxiously. His day had become even stranger.

“May I ask what you thought I was going to do with Ziio?”

While Charles knew he would have to explain his behaviour, Haytham’s direct request still filled him with dread. How petty and jealous he would appear! And…oh, how pathetic. Charles wasn’t sure if Haytham’s pity would be consoling or agonising.

Apparently Haytham didn’t need any response from Charles to understand. Charles wondered when his friend had grown psychic.

“I thought as much.”

This was too much. Rubbing his temples to try and ease the dull pain, Charles whispered, “I thought you were going to stay with Ziio, that you and I…that you would not need me anymore.”

Haytham’s eyes were shockingly gentle as he leaned forward, capturing Charles with the intent gleam in them.

“Charles, I know perfectly well who planted these ridiculous seeds of doubt. I did think I was obvious in my actions, as you can read me so well…but…”

A small tinge of pleasure shot through Charles. It was good to know that Haytham felt that Charles knew him intimately – in a friendship way naturally.

Haytham reached out and almost carelessly ran his finger along the edge of Charles’ plate, collecting toast crumbs. “I invited you to live me and specifically stated that it wasn’t the same as suggesting the others to move in. For over a year I have confided in you and shared a surprising number of adventures.”

Haytham licked his finger and carefully eased the plate from Charles’ loose grip; rough, calloused hands, hardened from years of training from childhood with weapons, climbing and fighting enclosed Charles’hands. Charles swallowed, his stomach heaving now from confusion and gnawing hope. He was still capable of being satisfied that his own grip was scored from years of training as well, matching Haytham as a warrior.

Maintaining Haytham’s penetrating stare remained difficult, but not for the same reasons. Charles was beginning to comprehend that he did mean a lot to Haytham and maybe…just _maybe_ …

“We attend every occasion together and have you not noticed how no one dare asks one of us without including the other?”

Charles blinked, Thomas’ earlier words coming back to haunt him. He should have listened.

Haytham smiled and this time it reached his eyes. “How long had you continuously talked about the Pomeranian until I suggested we begin researching into buying one or two?”

That knot in his chest was slowly unravelling and Charles licked his lips, suddenly anxious to speak, to set the record straight.

“I…I did not realise how significant all our interactions were, Haytham. I hoped, but didn’t consider myself worthy.”

“I would not waste my time with someone unworthy, Charles.”

That was true and Charles felt an idiot for missing what had been the obvious to all but him. Haytham stroked a thumb over the back of his and Charles shivered.

“I should have spoken however and I can only apologise. I know you sometimes have moments of…insecurity.” Charles smiled, it was a nice manner of saying, ‘flights of temper’, for he was given to see-sawing from happy to black moods, “Well, I shall speak clearly now. Charles, I am not leaving or casting you aside for anyone. In fact, I rather wish to keep you, if you would have me and vice-versa.”

It was what Charles so badly wanted to hear it took a minute for the reality to sink in, that this wasn’t one of his numerous daydream or hallucinations. When he fully grasped Haytham’s offer was sincere, Charles laughed, relief a big part of his outpouring of emotion.

Haytham thankfully understood and stood, guiding him to his feet. Just as he had so long ago when he had initiated him into the Order, he grasped Charles by his upper arms. “Charles? Do you accept?”

Charles suppressed his laughter and gathered his shattered wits, “Yes Haytham. If you’ll be mine too.”

Haytham chuckled, “Yes, then we have an accord.” Haytham pressed a kiss to his forehead, ducking to whisper into his ear, “Once you are fully recovered I promise I shall repay your kiss in kind.”

“I look forward to it.”

“About bloody time!” Thomas’ exasperated exclamation shattered their rather sappy interlude and Charles just rolled his eyes at his friend. He wasn’t angry, in fact he probably should apologise for doubting Thomas. The man had been right. It would result in an infuriatingly smug Thomas, but at least he had Haytham now.

= = =

Charles could never fully recall how the rest of the afternoon went, for as soon as the realisation sunk in that Haytham cared for him as a friend _and_ a lover, he was happy like a bird soaring on spectacular wind currents.

He certainly did not have time or the faculties to pay much attention to Thomas’ smirks and ‘told you so’. Though to be fair, Charles acknowledged that Thomas had a right to be, not that he would tell Thomas, even if his unusual forbearance spoke otherwise.

His lingering headache added to his mixture detachment and euphoria. What Charles did remember was Haytham insisting he lie down on Thomas’ sofa; while he did, Haytham moved around the room, speaking softly into his mobile. Charles couldn’t discern what Haytham was saying, but he wasn’t bothered. Charles felt a renewed sense of certainty and while he knew he would always suffer bouts of unease and insecurity, for now he felt comforted by Haytham’s reassurances.

It was only when he and Haytham finally left to head home that Charles began recollecting the remaining day. Mostly because his headache finally eased enough so thinking wasn’t strenuous and also for the fact that hehad actually found the answer to his puzzle of where his shoes had vanished to; apparently Haytham had hidden them in case he decided to sneak out. Charles could hardly blame him, even as he wanted to groan in embarrassment.

Once back at the house Charles wanted simply to crawl onto the couch as he still felt pretty rough: physically and emotionally. Haytham had other ideas.

“Charles, take a shower. Don’t worry about your clothes; I’ll fetch some clean ones.”

Charles nodded ruefully; he did have a rather strong ah…’fragrance’ right then: courtesy of Thomas’ aftershave and too much drink. 

“Okay. I’ll just grab some painkillers.”

Haytham frowned, “Not on an empty stomach. Shower first.” He smiled to ease the sting of his reprimand, squeezing Charles’ shoulder, “I’ll scrounge up some sandwiches for us.”

 Charles would have preferred taking the painkillers now to rid the last fragments of the low-grade yet persistent ache in his temples, but he knew that Haytham was right. He also secretly enjoyed the new level of meaning to their interactions and was a little amused at Haytham’s sudden fussing.

“Fine, quicker I wash the better!”

Then, nervously, Charles leant forward and awkwardly wrapped his arms around Haytham, hugging his friend (boyfriend? That term sounded like they were teenagers, but lover wasn’t wholly correct… _yet_ ).

Haytham chuckled, “I hope Charles that’s the hangover causing you to treat me like glass.”

Charles yelped in surprise as Haytham slipped his arms around him and returned the favour but with far more vigour. The air was crushed out of his lungs, but Charles couldn’t care less. Breathless, Charles squeezed back just as hard then released Haytham before he kissed him again. Once with alcohol breath was enough. Charles wished to try when he wasn’t a mess.

Charles smiled at Haytham’s amusement, hurrying away. He wanted to get back as soon as possible. Haytham had promised to repay his earlier, admittedly rather sloppy, kiss in kind once he was fully himself. The first step towards that aim was that damn shower. Who knew then what would happen?

= = =

The shower had been refreshing, shocking him out of the remnants of his languor. The hot water had been a miracle on his sore muscles and Charles was very relaxed when he did exit the cubicle.

He grinned at the neatly folded pile of clothes Haytham had left on the counter: loose shirt, pants, trousers and socks.

Peering into the mirror now, his face was no longer pale or strained from the fears of only hours ago. Instead, a little colour had returned. Some pain still lingered in his eyes, the normally striking blue dulled, but Charles thought they would be back to normal after a serving of food and tablets.

This time, when he brushed his hair and attempted a shave he looked like the Charles of only this morning, before Ziio came…

Ziio.

Charles paused in buttoning up his shirt. Ziio. Why had she come to see Haytham? Charles frowned as he pushed the last button through the slit, had Haytham explained? He didn’t think so, but his memories of earlier were distorted so he would have to ask. Suddenly anxious again, and curious, Charles finished dressing as quickly as he could.

Checking his appearance one last time, Charles was pleased to see how much more _human_ he appeared. Relieved, Charles hurried into the living room and grinned.

Haytham was causally attired as well, in his favourite blue shirt and loose cotton trousers. He was waiting for Charles on the sofa furthest from the door, two plates on the low table that was nestled in-between their two sofas, (two, to help accommodate their group of five).

Quickly darting over,Charles sat beside Haytham, leaving space between them. He saw Haytham’s raised brow, but before he could ask what he had done wrong Charles was dragged closer. Haytham released his grip and draped his right arm over Charles shoulders.

“I think that’s better don’t you Charles?”

“Yes, yes sir. I mean Haytham.”

Haytham laughed. Charles hoped fervently that Haytham would laugh more often and maybe he would. They had only acknowledged their feelings this very afternoon and already Haytham was more relaxed and not jovial, rather more generous with his smiles and laughter.

“I prepared your favourite Charles. Ham and cheese with butter on brown bread. I also added crisps; I know how you like munching on them when you do have a hangover.”

Charles eagerly retrieved his plate, missing the brief loss of warmth that Haytham’s arm across his shoulders and neck provided. He also fetched Haytham’s plate, loaded with the same, only with salami in the sandwich. Leaning back, Charles relaxed and hungrily ate, his appetite renewed by his doze in Thomas’ flat and a hot shower, and of course Haytham’s presence.

For a few minutes there was simply silence as both men devoured their food and relished each other’s company. Charles was acutely aware of Haytham, his arm, the line of his body pressing against his own frame, burning into his soul. Resting his plate on his lap, Charles used his right hand to eat with and with the same wariness he usually devoted to suspicious messages from leads, he held the plate with his left hand, allowing the back to brush Haytham’s knee.

Haytham tightened his hold on Charles and happy, Charles ran his fingers over his friend’s leg, lightly circling the edge of Haytham’s plate, also abandoned on Haytham’s lap. It was possibly his imagination that had Haytham inhaling sharply, but Charles thought not. Emboldened Charles polished off his sandwich and crisps, licking the salt off his fingers.

“Charles.”

Glancing up mid-lick Charles paused. Haytham was staring at him, expression intense.

“Yes?”

“Are you finished?”

Charles swallowed. Haytham’s voice was low and vibrated with a passion Charles hadn’t heard previously, it was different to the passion that Haytham displayed towards their moments of success or their interludes of fun and then Haytham only did so when John, William and Thomas were either absorbed with something else or gone.

Really, that ought to have been a clue. Oh well. Now though, the current in Haytham’s voice was…unknown to Haytham’s usual manner, yet reached right inside Charles, striking a chord within – unsettled, but not upsettingly so, Charles tried keeping his own voice even.

“Yes.”

“ _Good_.” Heat flared inside his belly and Charles purposefully flattened his left hand on his leg, lest it stray.

Haytham removed his arm from behind Charles and picked up both their plates, setting them on the table. Charles noticed that out of the three glasses one was full of water and next to them were a couple of pills on a small dish. Haytham must have prepared them for him. Charles grinned. It was definitely amusing having Haytham mother him, but pleasant as long as it wasn’t too stifling and Charles could return the favour.

Grabbing the glass full of water and the pills and swallowing in great relief, Charles watched dazed as Haytham followed the movement of his throat. That heat in his belly burned hotter.

However, Charles knew he wouldn’t have true peace until he discovered why Ziio had come. So, with great reluctance, he lowered his glass, completely empty - he had _needed_ it – and twisting a little more so that their knees touched, Charles steeled himself. “Haytham…you asked me what you thought you were going to do with Ziio and while I don’t wish to revisit my foolish conjunctures…”

Haytham reached out, resting his hand on Charles’ neck, eyes sad yet soft, “Not foolish,” he murmured.

Charles cocked his head, happy with the warmth and weight of Haytham’s fingers and palm on him – real and not a dream, all his.

“Perhaps. Yet, what was Ziio doing here? Why did she come? Will she return?”

Haytham’s mouth thinned, “Ah, so many questions. I will answer them all. Yet to allay any remaining fears you may have Charles: Ziio came for two reasons, her people are in need of help and knowing the power we wield and having no other recourse, and she turned to our Order. The other reason ties in with your final, Ziio will be back, but not in any way that will have me re-uniting with her. _That_ is not something either of us desires.”

“I don’t understand.”

Haytham inhaled and Charles stiffened, was it so was bad?

“The second reason I alluded to, Ziio understood I might not be willing to help as last time unfortunately did not yield much. So, she appealed to blood ties. Charles…I have a son.”

= = =

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes…I threw Ziio into the mix! In this AU Ziio isn’t adverse to Haytham or the Templars (because I needed a happy AU), just as in the game, wants to do best by her people. I hope this comes across!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by the wonderful Rae_fa! All remaining mistakes are my own!
> 
> _“The second reason I alluded to, Ziio understood I might not be willing to help as last time unfortunately did not yield much. So, she appealed to blood ties. Charles…I have a son.”_

= = =

Charles wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. A son? Haytham had a son? His first emotion was sincere shock. Haytham was staring at him, great anxiety darkening his eyes and twisting his mouth. Charles wanted to say something, to respond, but at the moment all he could do was struggle to process. Charles briefly wished he had never asked, but then dismissed that as a silly, cowardly notion.

His eyes fell on the third glass filled with apple juice. Grabbing it, Charles gulped the contents down. He needed the distraction the action allowed, enabling him to gather his thoughts and emotions.

Admittedly, the only reason that Charles hadn’t dissolved into a mess of irrational fear that this would cause Haytham to decide to stay with Ziio, was that even Charles with his moods had heard the conviction in Haytham’s voice.

Haytham did not lie and when he said he wanted, loved Charles, he meant it and when he declared that he did not desire to re-unite with Ziio, that in fact neither did she, then this was the truth.

Yet most of all, the warm reassuring weight of Haytham’s hand on his neck helped ground Charles. It was real and _here_ , solid and unmoving. Haytham was clearly not going anywhere.

And Haytham was looking grimmer by the minute as Charles’ silence drew on; with a trace of alarm beginning to glimmer through his normally calm façade. Charles couldn’t permit that. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was sticking to Haytham like a dog to its master, though Charles would like to think with Haytham seeing him more as an equal.

Reaching up he laid his hand over Haytham’s, the hairs on the back of Haytham’s hand tickling his palm. Charles rather liked the sensation.

“Sir…Haytham, I can’t pretend I’m not surprised, but I’m not going anywhere. I hope you’ll allow me to help, whatever choice you make.”

The smile that broke out on Haytham’s face did the impossible: it made Haytham look more handsome than ever. Charles was sure that he was glimpsing Haytham’s soul, sappy as that thought was. Then, Haytham leaned forward his eyes were bright and apparently glowing from within (a phrase Charles now understood).

Haytham kissed him, long and slow, lips moving against his. Charles gasped in delight. At last! Eagerly responding, Charles discovered Haytham was as quick as ever, slipping his tongue into Charles’ mouth and exploring. It was wonderful and Charles wanted so much more.

Moaning, Charles tried pressing closer to Haytham only to end up falling into his lap. Haytham fell over backwards, thankfully onto the sofa and started laughing. His arms now wound around Charles, trapping him in position. Charles was aware of how their bodies were flush, groins rubbing together as he shifted in an attempt to steady himself. However, Haytham had none of that.

Grunting at the friction Haytham braced a hand on the back of his neck and Charles was being urged to look up. Embarrassed Charles did and saw how happy Haytham looked.

“Don’t be like that Charles. I think we are going to have lots of fun.”

Haytham kissed him again, this time hungrily, devouring him as if he hadn’t just eaten. Breathless Charles gave as good as he got, nipping at wandering lips, twisting a little as Haytham’s hand began wandering, dipping under his shirt. Yet Haytham didn’t allow him to move too much, which was actually quite appealing. Charles enjoyed being caught against Haytham’s lean muscled body, revelling in the hardness he pressed against and the slide of Haytham’s hands on the skin of his back, possessive and curious.

He hissed as Haytham nudged under his chin and began nuzzling at his neck. It was wonderful. Groaning, Charles succeeded in shifting his left leg between their bodies, pressing against Haytham’s bulge. Haytham’s responding groan was delicious, breath hot on Charles sensitive neck and Charles clumsily moved his knee – there wasn’t much room to move – rubbing Haytham’s hardness.

Doing so pushed him into Haytham’s searching hands. They raked over his back and slipped under the top of his trousers. They brushed tantalisingly over his pants while Haytham bit and licked at Charles’ throat. Charles shuddered, lost in pleasure as Haytham attacked on all fronts even as Charles tormented him with rubbing his erection.

Charles could feel his own hardness leaking. He was so hot, belly tight with need and body thrumming. Charles struggled to focus, “Haytham…can… can we…”

“Yes.”

Haytham’s mobile tone broke the moment. Groaning in frustration Charles pulled away from Haytham who looked annoyed.

“Why are we always interrupted? I swear, if that’s Thomas.”

“You’ll chase him around the room as usual?” Haytham teased. Charles grinned, frustration leaking away slightly from Haytham actually teasing him, affection evident. Haytham reluctantly squeezed Charles backside, “I’m afraid this must wait and I need to finish telling you about my son.”

Charles knew Haytham was right, but he was still regretful that their session had been curtailed. “You’ll have to release me Haytham.”

Haytham raised an eyebrow, “Indeed?” Giving one last squeeze – Charles hissed – he loosened his hold and Charles, desperate to cool his erection, slid off. Haytham’s burning gaze on his crotch caused Charles to swallow hard, the heat in his belly flaming hotter.

“Shall I answer your phone?” Charles asked trying to cool the situation.

“No, I’ll call back.” Haytham swung his legs around and stood. He immediately ordered his messy clothing, fingers brushing over his bulge in a way that Charles found equal parts arousing and distracting. Knowing he had to calm down, Charles raised the subject of Haytham’s son.

“Haytham?”

“Yes Charles?” Haytham looked up from where fiddling with his mobile, curious.

“What is your son’s name? How old is he? Will he come and live with us?”

Haytham frowned, “I cannot pronounce his Native name, but his mother said that his English name is ‘Connor’. As for living with me…hardly. Ziio would not give him up and I admit I’m hardly prepared for having a child in the house twenty four hours, seven days a week. As for Connor’s age…four I believe.”

Charles nodded. Four sounded right time-wise, “What is our next move?”

Haytham picked up their plates and Charles hurriedly took the glasses, grateful that their conversation was cooling his blood and his other regions. He walked beside Haytham to the kitchen as Haytham answered, “I called William while you slept and he is working on some details for me. That was him. I’ll call when we have washed up.”

Setting the dishes in the sink, Charles found Haytham studying him carefully. “How do you feel? Are you up to the office? I would like the truth Charles. It will be a long night, so if you require rest we can instead do this tomorrow?”

Charles considered the question with the care it deserved. His headache was receding and while only seconds ago he had been ready for a lot of heavy petting, Charles now felt the after-effects of a long stressful day. It was his own fault for getting so damnably drunk, but that didn’t matter. Charles had worked before under great anxiety and strain, yet it would be nice to be able to work with a clear head.

“Can it wait?”

Haytham turned the tap on, “Yes. No matter what William has found we need to approach this with caution.”

Charles nodded, “I think if it is possible then, a few hours of sleep and I’ll be able to assist to the best of my ability. I don’t require a whole night, maybe four?”

Haytham’s smile was small, yet indicative of his pleasure at Charles common sense.

“Go now then Charles and I’ll wake you by ten.”

Relieved Charles darted forward to drop a kiss on Haytham’s lips, before dashing off. He loved seeing Haytham’s startled and slightly put-out reaction. It was encouraging to know how much Haytham wanted this as well…though he definitely required another shower – this time cold – to cool his arousal.

= = =

When Charles was shaken awake by Haytham it was to find Haytham perched on the bed, leaning over him. The room was dark save for the hallway light spilling in through the partially opened door. It cast Haytham’s face into shadows, making him appear mysterious.

“It’s ten, Charles. William called again to say he’s made some progress. Dress quickly and warmly, we might have field work ahead.”

“Yes sir. Haytham.”

Charles shrugged sheepishly. It was going to take a little time for his habit of calling Haytham ‘sir’ fade away, at least in private, even if Haytham didn’t seem too upset by the title. Charles found that interesting and made a mental note to keep the fact in mind.

“I shall be waiting.” Haytham kissed him quickly and Charles grinned. Sliding out of bed as Haytham left Charles actually wished Ziio had turned up sooner. Switching on his bed-side lamp Charles shook his head. He might owe her thanks, not a sentiment Charles had ever thought he would feel and it made him uncomfortable.

Never-mind, he would deal with the possibility of being grateful in Ziio’s presence when the immediate situation was over.

By the time Charles had dressed in his usual suit with his more hard-wearing clothes packed in a shoulder bag, he went into the living room. Haytham was attired in his dark blue suit, tailored to his frame; spotless white shirt and ebony tie with an Abstergo silver pin. Charles liked Haytham’s shirt for it matched his own white shirt: both bore a discreet gold cross on the collar button.

“Ready Charles?”

“Yes. Am I driving?”

“No need. I called Ben. He’s waiting for us. It will spare us if we must converse about important matters later.”

Charles nodded. It made perfect sense. Ben Hornigold was an old, well-tried employee, loyal and most importantly knew how to keep his mouth shut. He wasn’t simply a driver; he was a man of many skills and oversaw their shipping operations on the East coast.

Haytham picked up his own shoulder bag and gestured for Charles to lead so he could lock the door behind them. Charles checked their surroundings ere walking quickly to the black car parked on the curb.

He could discern Ben in the car for the overhead light was on. Haytham fell into step and together they got in.

“The usual Ben,” said Haytham.

“Yes Master Kenway.”

Charles settled back into the seat, content to have Haytham sitting beside him as Ben ensured no one was tailing them. Exchanging glances with Haytham, Charles relaxed some more at the contentedness that Haytham radiated. It was a surprisingly pleasant mix with the already focused aura Haytham wore when on a mission.

= = =

“Oooo here come the love-birds!” hollered Thomas as they entered Haytham’s office.

Charles scowled, annoyed at the heat in his cheeks. Thomas somehow could always touch that button inside him that ignited his temper, even when they got on. William and John were present and their expressions were amused and curious.

Haytham shut the door and raised an eyebrow at Thomas’ leering smile, “I trust Thomas you’ll be able to conduct yourself with decorum after your initial display?”

Thomas smirked. “Yeah…after saying I told ya so and that the air will be fresher with all the unresolved sexual tension gone.”

Charles twitched. Surely strangling Thomas shouldn’t be such an attractive prospect? Then again, his friend had a point rather unfortunately. “Must you be so insufferable in victory Thomas?”

“Like you are?”

Charles rolled his eyes and carefully dropped his bag on the table that dominated Haytham’s office. The Grandmaster’s office was an orderly affair, neat and precise: at the far end, a full plane of glass stretched lending a magnificent view during the day. Now at this late hour the city lights would be glimmering, however for privacy the blinds were drawn preventing light escaping or entering.

Haytham’s desk was situated in front of this window, with the standard office supplies: computer, pen holder, a couple of pictures: one of his mother, father and sister, the other of their little band.

There was also space on the desk for paperwork for even in a digital world there was always a necessity for hard copies. Everything else – files, vital maps and reports and so on were either locked in his desk drawers or in a separate room, concealed from sharp eyes.

To the left of the entrance was a long table with chairs that formed the nexus for board meetings. William, John and Thomas were lounging here. William with his laptop switched on along with a sheaf of papers. It was also where Charles had placed his bag.

Thomas was drinking as normal while John was checking his gun.

“So what I have missed?”

Haytham sat down, nodding for Charles to take his usual seat next to him. “I shall run through what I know first then William can fill us in with what he has uncovered.” William nodded in agreement. John put down his gun and Thomas stopped rocking back and forth in his chair and folded his arms on the table, leaning forward, clearly curious.

Charles withdrew his notebook from inside his jacket, it was well-worn, the cover creased and stained with use. He would have to procure a new one soon. Flipping it open, Charles uncapped his pen. He had to make up for his earlier behaviour. He saw John shaking his head slightly but Charles shrugged it off – John had a tendency of saying that he was a tad obsessive about proving himself and the like. Charles preferred to think it was that he was prepared for all eventualities was what had granted him the position of second-in-command.

“Gentlemen, as you all know by now, Ziio appeared this morning.” Haytham gazed at all of them in turn, a small flicker of warmth for Charles, before continuing. “She has travelled from New York bearing some very interesting information.”

“Yeah…that you have a kid!” sniggered Thomas.

“Indeed,” remarked Haytham coolly. “I see that William has filled you in already. For Charles’ sake however do be quiet Thomas.”

Charles grinned and met Thomas’ scowl with a sneer of his own. It was harmless, familiar and neither man would do anything to comprise a mission.

“As I was saying, Ziio travelled from her home with the sole purpose of speaking to me. As our last encounter was unsuccessful in finding what we sought I was surprised to see her. Yet I decided to follow her as whatever reason she had for being there had to be compelling. I was right.”

Haytham clasped his hands, “To cut the story short, Ziio spoke of strange incidents happening with increasingly frequency among her people; _strange lights_ , noises on the wind and visions of events that have been and of things that could be.

“There is talk of spirits and mass hallucination. Ziio believes it could be more. At first she was unwilling to involve us. Yet when more began to see these visions or see _odd markings_ in the air and nothing they were doing was working then Ziio realised that all these events match with the criteria that I – we – have been inquiring about.”

A palpable sense of excitement suffused the air. Charles could see mirrored in his companions’ faces the same thought: that at last, this could be it. That they were close to finding what they sought. Charles had to voice the question that danced on all their tongues.

“Haytham, do you think it could be a Piece of Eden?”

Haytham looked at him, voice betraying his hope, “I believe it could be or that these occurrences could lead to the shrine that holds an Apple.”

“But why after lying dormant for so long would the technology of the First Race awaken?” asked John.

“A good question John. William, do have any answers for us?”

William smiled, “I believe I do.” He pulled from his sheaf a folded paper which he opened to depict a map depicting the area around Ziio’s home. “This is the land upon which Ziio and her people live. Nearby is the precursor site which she showed Haytham four years ago and which was opened by the Assassins.”

William now turned to his laptop and tapping the touchpad to shift the screensaver, showed a list of article links.

“These links all have a common theme. They report some of the mysterious goings on that Ziio has mentioned, plus that other people have witnessed near our precursor site. Ever since the Assassins stopped the solar flare, such incidents have been becoming more regular.”

“You think that the First Civilisation technology is waking up as a whole?” Charles couldn’t help but ask.

“I do. Whether this is a good or bad thing is another matter entirely.”

“I think,” murmured Haytham, “that we can agree it isn’t wholly either. From what intel we have gathered from Mr Desmond Miles and the scattered Assassin cells, is that Juno has escaped and we must now try and stop her. If indeed, as it appears, their technology is activating, this could work in our favour…if we reach it in time, discover its purposes and understand how to utilise it. On the other hand, Juno is already knowledgeable about the devices of her race. To win we must stay ahead.”

“So there may be more to the precursor site – the Grand Temple I suppose – than the Assassins found?” said Thomas, wiping his mouth.

Charles stopped writing. Thomas’ question poked at a dormant consideration he had entertained once. “The Assassins used an Apple in the Temple, that much we inferred from the conversations we eavesdropped on. However, if Juno’s release coupled with the opening of the precursor, that is, the Temple site has set a chain reaction through dormant First Civilisation technology, perhaps the cause for all these visions etcetera is another piece of their technology…”

“Another Apple?” said Thomas.

“No, I don’t necessarily think so. These witnesses speak of visions and while the Apple seems to offer something in that vein, Ziio and the reports suggest a stricter definition of premonitions of the future, with glimpses of the past. I’m not saying it isn’t an Apple, but nor am I limiting it to solely that.”

The office went still. A silence trickled into the room and Charles could practically inhale the anticipation that suffused his friends. Haytham was studying him and it was nerve-wracking and exhilarating for Haytham looked stern and his eyes were expressionless, giving away nothing, much like a calm sea did not reveal when it would suddenly turn deadly.

Charles enjoyed those moments because the thrill in attempting to prod behind the composed exterior, to elicit an emotional response was fascinating and intoxicating. He wasn’t disappointed. A smile tugged at Haytham’s lips and pleasure glowed in his voice and eyes at Charles’ reasoning, “Charles is correct. We shouldn’t narrow our search to a Piece of Eden. If Ziio and her people are guarding First Civilisation artefacts we must remain open to whatever it might be.”

“So what is our course of action?” questioned John Pitcairn, leaning forward.

“We will travel to New York and speak to Ziio again. Once we have the latest facts we will search the area for ourselves.”

Haytham fixed each of them with a steely look, Charles straightened. “We must make every effort to show we are friends and wish to help Ziio and her people. Be careful of what you say and how, words have power so do not misuse them.”

“How about your son?” asked William.

Charles realised that his friends were all glancing at him while Haytham responded. They clearly felt he was going to handle this badly. Anger at their reaction coursed hot in his blood and Charles had to restrain himself from speaking. Instead he focused on maintaining an aura of serenity and as Haytham replied, Charles tasted bitter mortification.

Had he been so obvious in his obsession and jealously that his friends questioned his ability to support Haytham in such an important new aspect of his life – raising a son? Well, he would have to try and handle his temper better, otherwise his reputation might be irrevocably ruined and with it Haytham’s chance of a good relationship with his son, since he was now Haytham’s partner.

“Connor will come home with Charles and I. Ziio, reluctantly I add, agreed that he should stay with us for a week, so that we may begin to get to know each other.”

Charles licked his lips and determined to support Haytham more than usual to allay his friends’ wariness.

“Do we need to arrange anything in particular for Connor’s arrival? Such as toys or bedding?” A thought struck and Charles wanted to bang his head on the table, how could they miss something so obvious? “We will require a car-seat certainly.”

Haytham’s eyes widened, his composure briefly unsettled, “I forgot that detail.”

William frowned, “How much trouble can a four year old be?”

Thomas burst into peals of laughter, “You’re kidding right? Don’t ya remember your own childhood William?”

William raised an eyebrow, “Enough Thomas. Yes I do. I don’t recall being that much of a handful. I am not surprised to see that your boyhood exploits were wilder than mine.”

Charles ignored this exchange, busy calculating what in fact they had to prepare for Connor’s arrival. Charles was certain that Ziio wouldn’t simply hand the boy over without some sort of instructions, but it would be better to have a few things ready.

“Haytham.”

“Yes Charles?”

“I assume we shan’t need to buy clothing or toys – at least not at the start, maybe a small toy as a gift, you _are_ his father – as Ziio will mostly likely pack these. However, the car-seat is one item and sweets as most children are fond of them. Books we can buy with Connor present, a bonding exercise if you will. As for child-friendly cartoons, anyone remember what we liked as children?”

John raised an eyebrow, “A lot has changed since we were four, so I’m not sure what we liked is even relevant now.”

Charles frowned, “Surely children don’t change that much.”

Haytham pulled William’s laptop towards him, ensuring he saved William’s work before opening another tab. “It is unlikely we’ll be able to guess what Connor likes without input. I suggest we look up what cartoons we enjoyed, purchase them and then worry about relevant shows.”

Thomas grinned, “Do we all get to choose?”

Haytham eyed Thomas warily, “Yes though I expect you to remember my son is four.”

“Yeah, but you don’t want some of the pathetic cartoons they have today – where’s the action, scariness and brilliant music?”

Charles sighed. He agreed with Thomas on some level, but he feared that Connor would end up traumatised if Thomas was allowed free run. What cartoons would be appropriate for a four year old? Charles pondered as he watched Haytham tap in a couple of general searches “cartoons for children”; “for four year olds”; “for four year old boys”.

Rubbing his eyes Charles froze as he heard Haytham mutter in disgust, “All I can find is something called ‘SpongeBob SquarePants?’ What on earth? What happened to Gummi Bears?”

Was it really that simple? Charles felt ridiculous for missing the obvious. “Can’t we stick to the classics?”

When all four stared at him blankly Charles wondered if he was the only one who had bothered applying mental energy to the exercise, apart from Haytham of course. “Disney. Almost every child loves Disney cartoons and they’re easy to pick up.”

Haytham smiled, “Well done Charles.” Charles grinned and ignored Thomas rude gesture behind Haytham’s back.

Snapping the laptop shut Haytham stood and walked over to his desk. Unlocking one a drawer he extracted two sets of keys.

“It is late so we cannot purchase a child seat or any cartoons.”

“And bedding!”

“Yes, Charles, bedding too.”

“Can’t we get someone else to do that stuff?” grumbled Thomas.

Haytham gazed at Thomas coolly and the man shrunk in his seat. “Not at the moment. Everything must be kept quiet until we ascertain what is happening. If I mention Connor to any employee or request items for a four year boy it is possible, however slim, that word may leak to the Assassins. I will not endanger the mission or my son. Therefore, we shall oversee affairs understood?”

“Yes Sir,” said Thomas, knowing when to be obedient.

“Perfect.” Haytham returned to the table and handed one set of keys to William. “Take Thomas with you and explore the Temple area. If you require men bring only the Knights.”

Charles relaxed, the Knights were well trained and honed soldiers. Haytham had begun organising and training men – and women – with the skills to attempt to match the Assassins. Currently only a small group they had proved successful and Charles knew Haytham was hopeful yet practical for the future.

“John, you shall come with Charles and I to meet with Ziio.”

Haytham picked up his bag and nodded to his men, “Make any preparations now for a four am departure. Ensure you also catch some sleep. We should, if everything goes to plan arrive around eight in the morning in New York. Once we arrive we will have one last exchange then we shall head our separate ways.”

Haytham clapped a hand on Charles shoulder, squeezing, “My group will pick up some items for Connor and then meet with Ziio and William you will lead your team to the Grand Temple site. Any ”

Everyone shook their heads. “Then goodnight. Charles and I will be here if you need either one of us.”

Thomas sniggered, “Yeah, I bet you two will be busy with ‘preparing’ as well.” Thomas air quoted and then winked at Charles, “Hey Charlie, I’ve got cream if you have trouble walking or sitting later, you know what I mean?”

Charles spluttered, mortified beyond belief and angry as well. The desire to throttle Thomas was overwhelming and if it hadn’t been for his promise earlier to handle his temper better he would have jumped the table and probably slammed the uncouth Templar against the wall. Digging his hands into the table Charles instead swallowed, biting his lip.

He felt Haytham squeeze his shoulder painfully hard then speak in a low cold tone to Thomas, “I would advise you to watch your mouth Thomas, especially to Charles. William, please reign in Thomas.”

“Yes Sir.”

William, with a great deal of exasperation grabbed Thomas by the arm and started hauling him out. Charles breathed deeply and reminded himself that he owed Thomas a little for bringing he and Haytham together. So, he just succeeded in issuing “Goodnight” pleasantly to Thomas, who, along with the others glanced warily at him before repeating in kind.

When the door clicked shut, fingers under his chin forced his head up. Charles found Haytham assessing him curiously. “While I am not displeased with your restraint Charles, I am curious as to why.” A rough thumb stroked his cheek.

Charles blinked, struggling to speak past the sudden tightness in his chest. “Because I do not wish to upset or undermine your authority Haytham. I realised this night when John, Thomas and William expected me to ‘flip’ at hearing the news you had a son; heck what else could they believe when Thomas found me in a mess just this morning?”

Charles licked his lips and Haytham’s thumb was there, tracing the trail his tongue had taken. “I…I don’t want to continue like that and I am sorry I let that lack of trust build for so long.”

Haytham smiled sadly, yet pride glimmered in his eyes. “I appreciate the sentiment and will support you Charles in your endeavour, but know I never thought for one moment you undermined my authority or upset me.” Haytham urged him up and kissed him, “Without becoming sentimental, I assure you that the others don’t feel quite as strongly as you do. Thomas for all his faults obeys your orders and wouldn’t if he felt the pay was outweighed by foolishness.”

Charles laughed, “I suppose so.” Hesitating, Charles then summoned his courage and kissed Haytham, luxuriating in the feel of Haytham’s lips and tongue. Haytham however pulled away, but not without regret clearly showing. Breathless, Charles was glad to be encouraged to rest his forehead on Haytham’s.

“To bed Charles, though unfortunately to only sleep. We must be fighting fit for the ‘morrow.”

_Damn._ “Yes Sir.”

Again that peculiar flash in Haytham’s eyes and the corresponding flutter in his belly had Charles excited. He would definitely explore this when they had time. For the moment though he enjoyed the sensation of Haytham guiding him by the hand to the discrete door that led into a small room that contained a pull-out sofa bed, tiny washroom and table for a lamp, book and pen and a single chair.

The bed was already made up as Haytham did not use the room for anything else beyond sleep and possibly reading or writing in his journal. Haytham undid the buttons on his blue jacket and raised an eyebrow at Charles, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in just your underwear Charles?”

Charles’s mouth was dry so he just nodded and fumbled with the buttons until he somehow got the offending jacket off. He kept an eye on Haytham who almost sensually slid the Abstergo pin off his ebony tie before gently easing his tie from its knot, the silk running over his long elegant fingers.

Glancing away because he couldn’t actually focus on what he was doing Charles nervously unclipped his own pin – a present from Haytham, a silver eagle – and undid his scarlet tie. Looking around Charles met Haytham’s gaze and almost dropped his tie at the heat in the frank stare.

“On the chair Charles,” Haytham’s voice was smooth yet strangely…deep, yes deep, reminding Charles of a predator.

_Stay calm Charles._

Draping his tie neatly over the chair and adding his jacket Charles switched to his shirt and trousers not daring to look up until both were folded and ready to place on the chair.

When he did he couldn’t help himself and glanced at Haytham who calmly caught his stare. Haytham was wearing only his underwear, erection clearly straining through the material. His pants suddenly became uncomfortable, material restricted as his cock responded to the sight.

The suppressed passion in the twist of Haytham’s lips caused the hairs rise on his skin. Charles swallowed and watched as Haytham narrowed his eyes, following the motion of Adam’s apple.

“Haytham?”

Haytham dragged his gaze up and Charles was ridiculously pleased that he could inspire such desire in Haytham. It had been his secret fantasy for as long as he had known Haytham.

“Yes?”

“Which side of the bed?”

“Next to the wall.”

Nodding, Charles had to brush past Haytham and shivered at the sensation of hot skin. Flicking back the cover he eased in and scooted to the wall. Facing it Charles closed his eyes and attempted to regulate his breathing and cool his erection only to yelp as Haytham joined him and with one smooth move turned him over.

Facing Haytham, Charles found his efforts wasted as Haytham kissed him with bruising force. Gasping, Charles had Haytham’s tongue in his throat and in a startled whimper Haytham’s right hand inside his pants.

Charles barely choked out his question in the brief respite he had when Haytham growled in displeasure and withdrew to hiss, “Pants off.”

“But…sleep?”

Haytham’s eyes burned, “I changed my mind. Off.”

That was good enough and Charles frantically pushed at the hem of his pants while Haytham did the same. It was tricky with the confined space and after a few seconds Haytham stopped him.

“That’ll do,” he murmured, voice husky. Haytham’s pants were also partly down Charles realised as Haytham guided Charles’ hand to his cock. Charles closed his eyes in pleasure, oh it was wonderful: hot, thick and pre-come glistening at the tip.

Haytham’s low gasp at the contact was also reassuring and encouraging. Excited Charles closed his hand and slowly moved up Haytham’s length. Haytham hissed and pushed into him. Then Charles was groaning as Haytham’s hand curled around his leaking cock.

Eyes fluttering open Charles saw Haytham’s mouth slightly parted with lust, strands of his dark hair brushing his cheeks. Charles realised Haytham was smiling at Charles’ survey, a promise lurking in the curve of his lips.

That was his only warning before Charles found himself being assailed again: Haytham’s spare hand curling behind Charles neck to bare his throat, then the Grandmaster’s mouth biting at his flesh even as he began fisting Charles cock.

It was exquisite. Charles writhed under the attention, enjoying the hard panes of his lover’s muscles and the sting of Haytham’s teeth, soothed by the flutter of his lips.

Groaning, Charles managed to press his right hand to Haytham’s chest, liking the contact and squeezed the heavy length in his hand, relishing the feel and the sounds it drew from Haytham; and ah…Haytham’s breath seemed hotter, more forceful on his throat and his kisses wetter.

Charles took that as a good sign, so he started squeezing and fisting Haytham’s cock, taking clumsy swipes with his thumb over the tip.

Quickly his hand became slippery as did Haytham’s hand as both their vigour and passion increased. Heat and tightness gripped his belly and Charles pushed desperately into Haytham’s firm glides. Haytham was panting heavily now and switched to sucking at the base of Charles throat and shoulder. His grip on the nape of Charles neck tightened.

Shuddering Charles stroked slippery fingers over Haytham’s balls and whimpered at the gentle nip he received in return.

Delighted he massaged Haytham there, cupping Haytham’s balls and rolling them, then shifting to pulling hard and fast at his flushed cock. Haytham tensed and Charles knew what was going to happen soon and eagerly fisted once, twice…then Haytham was spilling into and between his fingers and biting down.

Then Haytham was raising his head and whispering with his usual air of command – if slightly breathless – “Come for me now Charles,” and twisting and squeezing to the brink of pain.

Unable as always to deny Haytham, nor ignore the acute mix of pleasure and pain Charles came. The rush of orgasm captured him, straining all his senses, belly almost impossibly clenching as he spilled. Collapsing from that was shocking yet glorious and trying to gain his breath Charles watched dazed as Haytham quickly slipped out to run a cloth under the tap. Then his sure, steady hands were cleaning them.

It was a headache to pull their pants up and then happily Charles was being hauled against Haytham, back against the honed chest of his lover and Haytham’s arm a possessive weight snaring him. Charles rested one hand over Haytham’s and as contentment ushered in sleep grinned at the image of their matching Templar rings.

= = =

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ah, that was enjoyable! I have tweaked the events of AC 3 a little as you see… Hopefully not too much for anyone. 
> 
> In the next chapter Charles meets Ziio & Connor for the first time, (and so does Pitcairn of course!).


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles meets Connor for the first time and bonds with the exuberant little boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never visited New York so I have been deliberately vague in my descriptions. Even so, if I have gotten something very wrong please do say so and I’ll fix to the best of my ability!

:::

It was safe to say that Charles was a very happy and content man when he awoke at three in the morning. The reason was rather obvious: as he stretched he could feel Haytham coiled around him, one arm weighing heavily on his waist and a broad chest pressed along Charles’ back.

A very comforting sensation and a reminder of their activities only a few hours ago, which Charles keenly hoped they would resume at not too late a date.

“Hmmm…Charles?” Haytham’s voice was a pleasant murmur in his ear and Charles rubbed Haytham’s ring.

“Yes Haytham?”

“Time to rise already?”

“Yes sir.”

Haytham moved and his heat vanished leaving Charles feel bereft. Rolling over onto his back he found Haytham sitting up, but looking him directly in the eye. Haytham’s hair was mussed, grey eyes still slightly marred by sleep, but otherwise alert.

“We’ll have some trouble with ‘sir’ shan’t we Charles?”

Charles recalled Haytham’s response to him calling Haytham ‘sir’ and feeling brave rejoined, “I think there’s always a place for addressing you by your title Master Kenway.”

Ah, yes, there was that reaction, the fleeting tight press of Haytham’s lips and that interested flash in his eyes. Haytham reached out and ran his fingers over Charles’ cheek, “As ever Charles, your ability to speak with a honey tongue is as captivating and dangerous as always.” Charles just grinned wider, he could tell Haytham was amused and not upset. “It is good you are relaxing and we shall investigate at length at what times it is appropriate to use the aforementioned epithets.”

“Yes sir.”

Haytham raised an eyebrow, and said dryly, “Good morning to you too, Charles.”

Slipping out of bed Haytham stretched and Charles admired the play of muscles in Haytham’s back and the roll of his broad shoulders. “Dress quickly Charles, we have a long day ahead.”

Shaken out of his happy reverie Charles nodded and hastily did as bid, with a mixture of excitement and nervousness at Haytham’s own appreciative stare.

Once properly attired, (in causal trousers, non-descript shirts and a loose fitting jacket for ease of movement), it did not take long to prepare. They both grabbed a meagre ‘breakfast’ and waited for the others who filed in at quarter to four.

Haytham handed over a wallet to William. “The new passwords and security passes for the Temple site are within, including the codes we must use between ourselves. I have put a few notes in there for the tolls as well.”

William checked the contents.

“Thank you sir. Where is our check-point?”

“There is a stop near New York. Charles will call through when we are close.”

William nodded and pocketed the wallet in his black jacket that was slung over his arm. He was clad in hiking boots, combat trousers and a long-sleeved shirt ready for action. Thomas was similarly dressed and smirking at Charles.

Charles purposefully didn’t gaze at Thomas too long, not desiring to rise to the glaring bait. Unfortunately, Thomas guessed his tactic and just sniggered, the bastard. Annoyed and embarrassed, Charles certainly hoped none of the others guessed what he and Haytham had done.

Not that he was ashamed, but Charles knew how private Haytham was and well, so was he to a certain extent, and Charles never wished to do anything that would embarrass the Grandmaster…Haytham.

However, Haytham appeared unaffected and remained standing close to Charles despite Thomas’ antics. Charles felt some tension drain from him and noticed that William and John were not overtly staring, rather they were alert with the normal pre-mission energy, eyes sharp and moving with a care and purpose that signalled they were in perfect control of themselves and their surroundings.

That atmosphere suffused Charles and he shifted, eager to continue to New York, to Ziio…to Connor, Haytham’s son.

Haytham smiled quickly at him, “It appears we are all ready. Let us depart.” Haytham gestured to the door, “John, go ahead. Charles and I will follow.”

“Yes sir.” The Scot heaved up his bag and hurried out of the office heading for the underground car park. “See you soon, sir,” murmured William who reached over and hauled Thomas with him.

“Bye Charlie! See ya and Haytham later.” One last wink and they were gone.

Charles breathed deeply, checked his watch and saw 3:55 and hastily turned running to Haytham’s desk to seize his tablet. Arms wrapped briefly around him, squeezing, before strong hands were turning him and then bracing on either side.

Now Charles breathed in the masculine scent of Haytham, which carried the hint of the fresh, uncomplicated cologne that the man favoured.

“Why the tablet Charles?”

Charles placed a hand on Haytham’s chest, grinning at his Master, friend and lover, “For research purposes.”

Haytham chuckled, “Good then that I am driving.”

“Oh, John isn’t? He’ll be disappointed.” They both knew how much John enjoyed driving, whenever he had an opportunity he was fiddling with his car, (Charles had no idea what make, he preferred knowing his weapons and well, keeping on top of everything he had to have at the tips of his fingers as the Second-in-Command).

Haytham raised his right hand and laid it in-between Charles’s shoulder blades, rubbing gently.

“I’m sure he’ll cope, and I am the only one who knows where Ziio is meeting us. I think it wise to maintain that as a lot hangs in the balance; not only my son, but potential First Civilisation technology.”

Charles understood, “I can only pray he doesn’t start another discussion on the merits of which car engine is the best.”

Haytham laughed and Charles loved the way the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled when he did, “Still traumatised by the long debate on whether a Mini-Cooper is more elegant than a Bentley?”

Charles shuddered, glaring at Haytham, “Yes, though I do probably get my own back with certain topics…Pomeranians and-”

“Me?” supplied Haytham with a smile and before he could protest in pathetic denial Charles found himself being kissed.

It seemed that Haytham thoroughly loved kissing Charles. Kissing back just as hard, Charles made another mental note on Haytham’s inclinations.

All too soon Haytham pulled away and murmuring, voice deeper than usual, “We must go.”

“Yes sir.” Ah it was worth the brief irritated flash that preceded the biting kiss to his lips. Haytham withdrew and Charles touched his lips, knowing they were swollen. Pride and smugness warred with minor embarrassment as Charles fell into step beside Haytham.

Life was definitely on the up.

= = =

The drive to New York was uneventful. John was talkative as ever and Haytham kept up a fluid conversation with him, but Charles sunk into his own world, secluded from their natter on the smoothness of the drive to which car should John invest in now, or indeed branch out to motorcycles, (Charles was fairly certain this was Haytham’s manner of retaliation for all those ‘sirs’ he had strewn through their encounters).

John had to lean forward and speak over Charles as Haytham was driving with Charles next to him. Nothing new then, mused Charles as he did his best to shut out their conversation, tapping on the internet.

“Yeah, a nice small motorbike to start off would be nice. Learn about the beast first before I commit,” agreed John rather loudly in his ear.

Charles instinctively rubbed the offended appendage and flicked his gaze to John who just grinned unrepentant.

_Is Thomas catching?_ thought Charles.

Never mind, he had important research to do, as he had stated to Haytham, particularly since no one else seemed devoted to the task. Brushing the screen with his finger Charles read avidly the latest article that had popped up on his tablet. He hadn’t realised the breadth of opinion on the topic to be fair.

Frankly, some of the voiced methods were alarming, crazy or just plain senseless. It was perhaps two hours later when he was disturbed.

“Very well Charles, I admit defeat. What _are_ you researching?” Haytham’s amused tone filtered into his corner of the universe and only his training as a Templar Knight prevented Charles from jumping in his seat.

Turning to meet Haytham’s curious gaze Charles was aware of John now attempting to peer over.

“Oh, I’m checking parenting sites…not that I think you won’t be an excellent father Haytham! Just that…”

“None of us have ever dealt with children so have no idea what we’re getting into?” replied Haytham, a smile gracing his handsome face.

“Well…yes.”

“And you’ve been reading for _two_ hours?” asked John incredulously. “Surely there can’t be that much to raising a child?”

Charles shook his head, “You’d be surprised John. There’s an ocean worth of website out there, with a myriad of opinions. A lot of them are rather barmy to be honest.”

“Any useful ones?” asked Haytham, glancing in the rear-view mirror to check on William’s progress.

“Unfortunately, only a couple. They give an overview of a structured day, such as bed-times and how to ensure putting them to bed is as pain-free as possible.” Charles quickly flicked to a bookmarked page, “Oh and pure gold for us: children’s clothing, toys etc. including for four year olds.”

“You obtained all that Charles from a webpage?”

“Um well,” clearing his throat Charles looked at Haytham sheepishly, “I may have purchased a book from one website and uh, downloaded it.” At Haytham’s disbelieving stare, Charles flushed and protested, “It’s a good investment sir. It’s for first time parents and covers the first seven years of a child’s life. I thought it might be useful since I certainly don’t have any experience with children.”

Haytham sighed, “I suppose you are correct Charles. I shall give you the money for the book later and no arguments on that matter.” Charles relaxed, Haytham approved and that’s what mattered.

“Write down a list then Charles so we can be quick in the shop.”

“Yes sir.”

John snorted, “I’ll help. Send me a link to that webpage Charles and I’ll make some notes while you prepare the shopping list.”

“Of course.”

John fell back and pulled out his phone and fiddled with it so he could access his emails. It was in this much quieter atmosphere that they finished the last stretch of their journey, night bleeding into day, the morning sun shining brightly as Haytham parked in a lay-by.

Charles and John remained in the car while Haytham quickly met with William confirming their missions. It was a brief efficient meeting and within minutes they were on their way. Driving into the outskirts of New York was as always a nightmare – Charles much preferred Boston.

Yes, there was traffic in Boston, yet for Charles the city had its charm; a leftover from when he had first arrived in the city and become fully initiated into the Order. It was where he had met Haytham, his fellow Knights and where he lived alongside his compatriots. Charles wasn’t fully at the mercy of sentiment, but it formed a large part of his character, his passion easily roused and Boston with its memories would always be larger than life, better than any other city.

It didn’t help that this city held Ziio, a woman Charles had always held in fear and competition with Haytham. Those emotions were less powerful now, but a day doesn’t vanquish old suspicions entirely. So Charles was in a state of great anxiety.

The desire to be civil, please Haytham, be attentive and polite – _loving_ – to his Grandmaster’s son were all at war within him, competing against his old fear and from that wariness and jealously; weaker now but still pooling like poison underneath. His research had kept him occupied, but now it was finished and he was here in New York.

Charles breathed deeply and smiled when Haytham glanced at him in concern. He must have been reassuring for Haytham returned his smile, though who knew what Haytham’s sharp eyes truly saw?  Determined to behave and banish his temper for once, Charles pocketed the list and paid attention to the route they were taking.

It didn’t take long before they pulled up into a Templar owned building, (a youth recreational centre), and were being directed to a nearby children’s store – to Charles’ surprise it was also manned mostly by Templars. Through conversation it transpired that the shop wasn’t officially part of the Abstergo structure, but the people who ran the store and mostly manned the floor were married to Templars.

Walking out into the early sunshine and blinking at the glare, Charles rolled his shoulders. It was warm already for which he was grateful. The winter had been long and harsh so summer weather was a bonus.

“I love this,” remarked John standing beside him, surveying the pavement and road that were mostly bare.

Charles frowned, “Love what?”

John smirked and whispered softly, “How we have eyes and ears everywhere, even when it’s not wholly official.”

Understanding dawned, “Ah,” Charles rubbed a hand over his face to wake up a bit, careful to keep his beard and moustache neat. “It is wonderful yes. Hopefully they’ll be able to assist us in locating what we require.”

John shrugged, “It’s going to be a learning curve even if we do somehow manage to buy everything we need, which is unlikely. Though,” and here John clapped him on the shoulder, “I’m glad you and Haytham will suffer the most as you’ll be living with the boy.”

Charles stiffened, “As long as he likes me and I don’t screw up.”

“You shan’t Charles,” Haytham briefly slipped an arm around him and squeezed, letting go. “I have faith in you and all of us.”

It was nice having Haytham believe in him and it quieted some of his fears, but since reading the parenting sites and book Charles was twitchy. So much could go wrong.

_And right_ , whispered the treacherous sane part of him – who had time for sanity in the face of a four year old?

“Come,” said Haytham, “we must hurry as Ziio is expecting us by ten.”

Charles checked his watch, it was 8:30am now, how on earth were they meant to be ready in time? As if sharing his concern Haytham walked briskly, Charles and John following swiftly. It only took fifteen minutes to walk to the shop though Charles felt that was far too long.

Upon entering the shop however, Charles’ earlier anxiety shot into orbit. Row after row of shelves stretched away from them, full of toys, bedding, and Charles was sure he glimpsed food too.

“Bloody hell,” hissed John, eyes wide, “are they serving all of New York?”

Charles cautiously walked forward, Haytham a warm presence as Charles picked a kitten off the shelf.

“I shouldn’t imagine so,” Charles said, sharing a worried frown with John.

Haytham meanwhile had wrestled a trolley free and pushed it to John who looking rather relieved to be off selection duty, gripped the handle bar ferociously, as if he thought Charles would fight him for it.

If he became fainter then he might, Charles felt.

“Do children really need all of this?” inquired Haytham, disapproval on his face, voice dripping disdain.

Charles bit his lip and examined the fluffy kitten, “Perhaps? I recall having a stuffed animal as a youth.”

 Haytham inclined his head graciously, “If you say so Charles, you have been reading up on the subject after all.” Haytham held out his hand and Charles surrendered the kitten.

“Are we buying this?”

“Um, yes?” tried Charles, “Does Connor prefer cats or dogs?”

Haytham paused and considered, his answer was uncertain, “My son was playing with a cougar figurine when I met him…”

Charles felt some relief, “Then hopefully he’ll like the kitten. I wonder if there are any Pomeranians?”

John examined the kitten, “You don’t think it’s a bit girly?”

Charles scowled, “No and neither are Pomeranians.”

John held one hand up in defence. “I only said that once Charles. Fine the cat’s manly.”

Pushing through the stuffed animal collection – celling to floor damnit – Charles muttered, “Small, fluffy and cute, Pomeranians can be quite vicious and so can be cats by default.”

“Peace gentlemen, let us finish with haste.”

“Yes Sir,” said John. “Yes, Haytham,” murmured Charles withdrawing disappointed. No Pomeranians, oh well.

Wandering deeper into the store dread washed over Charles. The contents of the shop were unfamiliar, relics from a childhood long gone. This was going to be pure hell.

= = =

He had been correct. The trip was traumatic and as they left the store Charles had the sensation they had almost certainly bought too much. Each of them was loaded with bags and in Haytham’s case a pile of bedding, since he had refused (as he was the father) for either of them to suffer.

Even buying the bedding had been a trial. Who knew that there were so many characters to choose from?

Batman pillowcase, duvet and sheets? Or perhaps a ninja turtle or Star Trek? Wolf theme, or a cat or a dog? And so many others!

_“Buy two sets,” Haytham had hissed grimly, strain showing in his eyes, lips pursued._

_John nodded and grabbed whatever he could reach first._

The next aisle had been clothes. Charles had found himself slightly hysterical as Haytham and John had been arguing over boyish and girly again and he had been sorely tempted to say screw it and buy whatever colour so they didn’t run late.

_“I think his mother will supply pants, so maybe just a couple of trousers and shirts to show willing,” Charles interrupted the fight._

_Blinking, Haytham stared in surprise as Charles practically red-eyed from stress, tidy hair mussed, picked (in Charles’ opinion), rather handsome brown corduroys and pale blue jeans, with a tiger T-shirt and Alsatian long-sleeved top (a dog at any rate), and finally checking with Haytham for approval a black fake leather jacket._

_Oh and a scarlet scarf, “He could pretend to be a pirate.” Charles offered embarrassed to Haytham who actually patted his shoulder affectionately. “I’m sure Connor will be thrilled, you can wear your cravat and play with him.”_

_Pleasure curled in Charles’ gut. Haytham wanted him to play with his son and that meant the world._

Thankfully, that had been near the end with only a car seat left. Charles was lugging the thing in a bag, stunned by the various sizes for children. Connor was tall for his age so they had got a largish one.

Haytham had been decisive about that facet…

_“The grey one, Charles” said Haytham, who looked exhausted and was shepherding his command to him in the last, horrifying leg of their expedition._

_Charles nodded and ensured he had a securely wrapped box before actually opening and checking the contents. Satisfied he dropped the box into the full trolley and saw Haytham’s fond expression. Flushing Charles licked his lips, conscious of Haytham watching with interest. “Sir?”_

_“You are going to be a doting parent Charles. Don’t frown, I find it very pleasing. You have nothing to worry about with Connor.”_

_Haytham’s voice was low and oddly gentle, his normal gentlemanly politeness rounded with a dimension of softness he rarely displayed in public. Warmth suffused Charles as if the morning sun was glowing down on him and Charles swallowed the sudden intense joy at Haytham’s verdict, at Haytham’s trust in him. Love was a funny gift; it narrowed your world in one way: to the person or persons you loved, yet broadening that world to encapsulate everyone your lover loved. To make them happy was paramount and here was Haytham saying that someone he found important – his son – would be happy with Charles._

_Yeah, the sensation was beyond what Charles had ever felt, it burned hotter yet more contained than his devotion to Haytham, as if it was just as strong but fit in a neater ‘box’. Difficult to explain, but that was it._

_“Thanks Haytham. I, just thank you. I…feel the same about you.” Haytham nodded and then just indicated for John who had been discreet, to push the trolley._

So here they stood, nerves fraying even as Haytham’s reassurance filled Charles with renewed fervour.

John twisted his arm to peer at his wrist. “Seriously, 9:30 - that took an _hour_?”

Charles refrained from pointing out how long each one of them had debated over certain items and furthermore how he and Haytham had stupid arguments over ‘girly’ and ‘boyish’. He lacked the energy and the time.

Haytham simply snapped, “The place is a jungle. We’ll be better prepared next time.”

Charles swore that whimper wasn’t _him,_ though if he was condemned to child shopping again he was going alone, possibly with Connor if necessary.

_Can a four year whine more than thirty something’s?_ Mused Charles as they rushed as much as possible to the youth centre and collected the car. It was there that Charles made the mistake of suggesting they fitted the car seat.

Fifteen minutes later Haytham slid out of the backseat, his hair falling into his face, straying from the ribbon he normally wore.

“Charles?”

Folding the instructions Charles looked over, knowing he appeared even more ruffled than he had when they departed from the store. “Yes?”

“While I sincerely regret doing this now, I equally congratulate you on your foresight. Doing this in front of my son so poorly would have destroyed any image of authority from the off.”

“Thank you Haytham.” Charles wiped his forehead, he agreed with Haytham, but was mortified at the drama they had created over a child seat.

John was drinking heavily from a water bottle, passing it to Charles so he could also quench his thirst – and nerves.

“As long as we can promise never to tell anyone it took three of us to fit a child seat I’m content,” stated John flatly.

Haytham finished fixing his hair, passing a comb to Charles and ordered his clothes. “I concur.”

“Same,” Charles offered as he brushed his hair and tidied himself.

“Splendid.” John now climbed in and relaxed.

Haytham sighed and gestured to Charles who jumped in, realising how close they were cutting it.

= = =

They were late. He knew they would be, but still had hoped they would somehow scrape through. Haytham appeared fine though Charles knew him well enough to see the slightest tension in his shoulders. John was busy checking their environment – something Charles knew he ought to be doing, but currently he was attempting to not vomit the contents of his stomach.

His earlier anxiety mixed with fear and faded jealously to act like a toxic drug sapping his system. Swallowing in an attempt to push down his nausea Charles followed Haytham into an alley between a block of flats, clutching the bag he was holding with white knuckles. John was on his heels a silent presence.

At the end of the very clean alley (much to Charles’ surprise) Haytham turned to the left and used a key to open the fresh white door. Curious, Charles entered and saw a tidy entrance hall with boxes for post on their left and on the right two lifts.

“One flight and we’re there,” remarked Haytham eyes sweeping every single corner, as always alert to any trouble.

“Yes sir.” Charles changed hands; his grip on the bag was sweaty.

Haytham glanced at the bag and then at Charles and a brief soft smile flickered through his remote façade. “Ready with Connor’s toy?”

Charles nodded, “Yes, I hope he likes it.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“Everything fine behind us Haytham,” reported John who had followed last.

“Good, this way.”

Silently they ascended the stairs and branched to the right, down a long corridor well lit so that there was nowhere to hide and Charles noted the lack of convenient corners for shelter, or windows or anything on the walls to use for climbing.

The building was a perfect place as any to make an Assassin’s life difficult, though the lifts offered some opportunity for access.

Suddenly Haytham stopped by a door three up from the end. John swivelled to survey the area behind them as Haytham pulled out his mobile and called a number.

“Ziio? We are here. Charles.”

Understanding what Haytham meant, Charles knocked on the door

_I hope he likes me_ , Charles prayed as he forced a happy expression on his face and watched as the door swung open.

Ziio stood in the entrance way, wariness etched into her face and peering from behind her legs was a boy, tall for his age.

Eyes a deep brown alive with curiosity stared up at him, his head tilted brown hair falling to his chin, partially into his eyes. He was a younger version of Ziio and Haytham, Charles thought, gut twisting. Connor spoke, voice excited, “Are you father’s friend?”

Charles blinked and before he could reply Haytham cut in, “Yes he is Connor. Now let us in.”

Connor pouted, but glancing up at his mum and seeing her nod he moved back constantly switching his fascinated watch between his father and Charles and then John when he stepped in.

Ziio shut the door and faced them, a carefully neutral expression crafted on her face. Charles assumed she didn’t want her son to guess the seriousness of the situation so he summoned all his charm and said, “Nice to meet you again Ziio. How are you?”

Ziio raised an eyebrow at his civility and Charles almost winced. His jealously had clearly not been so concealed. “I’m fine Charles. Just fine.”

“Good,” Charles licked his lips and wondered what else to say.

A silence fell and Charles shifted as he tried to think of something, flexing his hands the bag crackled. Relieved Charles focused on Connor as Haytham stepped forward, gently touching Charles’ elbow to guide him in further.

“Splendid. John Pitcairn is my other associate and friend. Shall we sit down and discuss the matter we came for?”

Ziio nodded slowly. “Hello Mr Pitcairn.”

“Please call me John,” John’s voice was pleasant and inviting.

Ziio waved a hand with Connor sticking to her. However, once in the room he peeled off and walked to Haytham. He looked over his shoulder at Ziio before raising his arms a tad distrustful.

“Father?”

Haytham twitched and then crouched, scooping Connor up in his strong arms. Charles could tell that Haytham was uncomfortable, unused to open displays of affection and certainly to hugging little boys, that it was his son didn’t make it easier to attempt.

On instinct Charles pressed closer and smiled at Connor, the uncertainty in his little face was cute if Charles allowed himself to admit it. Haytham awkwardly adjusted his grip. “Connor, this is Charles, he is my dearest friend. We live together so you’ll get to know him better as you stay.”

Connor frowned then reached out with his left hand to touch his chin, fingers scraping his beard.

“Scratchy,” the boy said.

“Hmmm…guess so. You get used to it. Say…I think we have a present for you.” Charles found himself pitching his voice low and soothing.  He pulled from the bag the kitten.

Connor’s reaction was instant.

His face glowed and the smile was consuming, enthusiasm spilling over as he grabbed the kitten. “A cat!” he declared, “Just like the one mum promised me! Thank you Mr Lee!”

Charles noted that Connor referred to Ziio as ‘mum’ instead of ‘mother’, while to Haytham he used the more formal ‘father’ instead of ‘dad’. Charles realised this was natural, Connor had only known Haytham two days…if that considering Haytham would not have had a lot of opportunity to spend much time with his son during his visit with Ziio. And of course, this was the second day, so hardly time to forge a strong or familiar bond between the two.

Connor beamed up at him, gasping ‘thank you’ again.

Charles laughed at the sheer delight and Haytham was also grinning. “It’s not just from me, but from your father as well.” Charles made sure to acknowledge Connor’s preference.

Connor turned wide eyes to Haytham, “Thank you father.”

“You’re welcome son.”

Connor struggled and Haytham hurriedly put him down. Connor bounded over to his mum to show his gift, still examining it closely. Ziio smiled and gently brushing her son’s hair she murmured, “That is wonderful darling, but I must talk with your father.”

Charles jumped as Haytham clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Charles,” Haytham was obviously pleased with him, “stay with Connor and bond with him while Pitcairn and I chat with Ziio. We’ll re-join you as quickly as possible.”

“Yes sir.” He was very relieved. He did not trust himself to not be emotional with Ziio as of yet.

Charles went over to Connor. He was aware of Haytham out of the corner of his eye urging Ziio into the next room. Ziio was clearly reluctant to abandon her son to a near stranger so Charles knelt down smiling friendly at the boy.

He wasn’t sure what he would _say_ next would work, he did not have any experience with little boys, beyond having been one and that was long enough ago that who knew what boys liked now?

“So Connor we’ve been left to have fun while the others discuss boring stuff.  What shall we play?”

Was it his imagination or did Ziio actually crack a tiny smile? Encouraged, Charles reached out to pet Connor’s kitten.

Connor gazed up at him with renewed interest. “We get to play?”

Charles nodded, “Yes, we do.”

“Anything we want?”

Instinct rose and screamed at Charles and he hastily said, “Within reason.”

Connor cradled his kitten, brow furrowed as if considering a serious matter of philosophy.  “Can we play explorers?”

Charles grinned. “No problem, but you will have to show me how.”

Connor’s mouth dropped open, pure horror reflected in his dark eyes and high voice, “You’ve never played explorers?”

Barely refraining from laughing, damn it all, but Connor was adorable. He was so screwed already between father and son.

“No, so we better save me huh?”

“Uh huh.” Grabbing his hand, much to Charles’ surprise, Connor tugged him over to far wall where a couch rested and now Charles could see was covered in a plethora of stuffed animals, miniature figures and a _bow and arrow…?_

Terrible visions of how this could go wrong, namely Connor shooting it in inside at Thomas’ behest, flashed in Charles’ mind.

“You ah…have a bow and arrow?”

Connor grinned, “Yep, mum got me one if…” Connor scrunched up his face in an attempt to remember, “…if I promised to be good and listen to her.”

A little doubtful Charles decided to be careful, “Only if you were good and listened to her?”

Connor shrugged, climbing onto the couch, pulling him along. Charles pushed aside a cat and eagle before he squashed them.

“And uh, only played with it if an adult said I could.”

Hopeful eyes bored into him and Charles could feel his resolve shuddering. Only the previous visions of horror prevented him from caving. Mentally noting to raise the issue with Haytham re: Thomas + Connor + bow & arrow = bad, Charles squeezed Connor’s hand.

“I think not now Connor. Perhaps when you’re with us. We have a large garden with high fences you can safely practise in. We will have to buy a target I suppose.”

Connor looked disappointed only for a moment before grinning happily. “Thanks Mr Lee! Mum said I could bring it if you said yes.”

Charles was startled. _Clever boy._ Charles appreciated his cunning; he was very much like his father with quick wits.

“I or your father?”

Connor pouted, confused, “But don’t you live with father?”

“Yes.” Charles wondered where Connor was going with this.

“So it’s the same thing!” It was said with utter innocence and a child’s uncomplicated view of the world. Charles lived with Haytham ergo he had the same authority. It was nice, but Charles wasn’t sure how exactly his authority over Connor stretched as Haytham had not yet had said anything.

“Well, I’ll have a word with Haytham.”

“I can’t bring my bow?” Connor looked upset.

“Now I didn’t say that,” soothed Charles, alarmed at the sudden flip in Connor’s sunny disposition, “I just need to confirm Haytham is happy to have the bow.” Nervous, but determined to calm the boy, Charles cautiously hugged Connor, who sniffed.

“After all your father is a knight…”

But it was worth Connor’s reaction. Awe filled his handsome face and his mouth sagged open. “A knight?” he breathed and suddenly Connor was clambering into his lap, still clutching his kitten, (Charles was going to have ask about that), and peering up at him with mingled suspicion and eagerness.

“Yes, but you must promise not to tell anyone.” Connor frowned, “Why?”

Charles tried not to shift too much for Connor was balanced painfully on his lap. “Because you see, your father and I are both Knights who fight for peace, order…for people to have something to work towards together. We have enemies who fight us so we have to be careful.” Charles eased Connor a little who grimly held on, locking his focus on Charles.

“To keep everyone safe we have to be secret. That’s why we’re here: to protect your mum, **your** people and of course you.”

Connor contemplated all this, demeanour very serious until he lifted his chin and the stoic unwavering resolve his father captured his features and voice, “I’ll keep it secret. You can trust me!” Connor suddenly twisted and moved to get off his lap.

Startled Charles allowed Connor to slip to the ground. There the boy turned back to him and in the same inflection as before asked “Do I have to promise?” Charles smiled even as his heart pounded.

“Yes, but your father is the leader so we’ll have to wait for him.”

Connor nodded seriously. An awkward hush fell with Connor still observing him with amazement and that strange determination, a miniature of his father with Ziio’s countenance.

To break the peculiar atmosphere Charles recalled his earlier musings. “So why do you like your kitten Connor?”

Connor blinked then stroked his pet, “Because it looks like the cat I want.”

“You like cats most of all?” Charles joined Connor on the floor.

“Yup, they’re quiet and deadly, pouncing quickly!” Connor enthused, “You don’t see them coming. A great hunter.”

“And you want to be a hunter?”

“Yes, no.”

“No?”

“Now I want to be a Knight like you and father.” Charles felt a rush of…was it exultation or nervousness or a mixture?

“Well, there’s plenty of time for that,” reasoned Charles.

Connor appeared doubtful, “Do you like cats?”

“I prefer dogs, Pomeranians to be precise.”

“Pom…Pom…”

“Pomeranians, they’re small like cats.”

“Uh huh, do you have one?”

“Not yet, we hope to.”

Connor squeezed his cat, “But you don’t hate cats?”

“Heavens no.”

“Good.” Connor held out his cat, “Want to stroke her?”

Charles laughed; Connor was amusing in his quick switches in topic and agreed, “Thank you yes.”

He had the kitten shoved at him and cuddling the stuffed animal Charles felt ridiculous, but accepted by Connor which was what he had hoped would happen. The fur was soft and the kitten very squishable.

“What is her name?”

Connor shrugged as he retrieved his pet and placed her carefully on the carpeted floor. “I don’t know yet.”

Charles hummed, struggling not to laugh at the serious edge of contemplation to Connor’s response.

“Indeed? Well, I suppose you shall think of a name eventually for her. Now, what are we doing now?”

Connor began pulling off his figurines which appeared to a miscellaneous collection of jungle type figures dressed Charles assumed for exploring.  Connor sat opposite him and arranged half the figures next to him and the other half in front of Charles.

“Now we can play,” he said with immense satisfaction.  Picking up a figure – a man wearing a wide hat with a brim, green clothing and a rifle, Connor waved him, “We’re going to explore New York and the first one to discover everything – high places,” Connor waved towards the top of the cupboards or desk, “and low places,” he buried the explorer into the carpet and wriggled him under the couch, “wins!”

_Sounds like fun._

“Wonderful,” gently accepting the explorer Charles also picked a female figure, this one dressed as a hunter, bearing a knife at her hip and in her hand a spear. “Let’s begin.”

Grinning Connor immediately flung himself flat on his belly and began crawling along with two of his figures, telling the rest to stay. Charles eased himself more slowly to the floor and mimicked Connor’s actions much to his delight.

It was in this happy if rather exhausting manner that the two of them spent the hour waiting for Haytham, John and Ziio to reappear. When they did Charles was being clambered over by Connor who was loudly explaining how once they had rested, (Charles’ idea), they could watch television perhaps? Charles was all for that and wished he had brought one of the Disney DVDs with him.

“Charles?”

“Son?”

“Mum!” Connor sprang off and ran up to his mother chattering as fast a hummingbird beats its wings.

Charles blushed up at his lover who was smiling at him. The joy that glimmered through startled Charles and reminded him how important it was to Haytham that he and Connor got along.

“Sir…Haytham.” He noted Ziio’s raised eyebrow at the mixed address, but ignored it. Haytham offered a hand and Charles gladly took it.

Haytham helped brush down his clothing, “How was it Charles?”

“Oh quite eventful Haytham. Connor has been showing me how to play explorers and we have already covered half of New York – haven’t we Connor?”

Connor glanced over from where he was showing his mother his pieces as well as Charles’. “Yes! We met giant rats and fought criminals!”

Haytham chuckled, “Sounds exciting. However, I’m afraid we must make tracks.”

Connor’s face fell and tears suddenly appeared even as he swallowed and attempted to be brave. “Mum?”

Charles sighed at Connor’s forlorn expression; the boy was going to miss his mother terribly. Hardly surprising since he had probably never been away from her his all life and now he was staying with virtual strangers for a week.

Ziio hugged Connor to her and cupped his cheek; she spoke soothingly, her love for her son clear as day in her deep brown eyes. “Be brave my little warrior. You’ll enjoy your time with your father. Haven’t you already had fun with Charles?”

Connor sniffled and nodded.

“Well, it’s only for a week and you can call me every day.” She kissed him on the forehead, “Be good for them hmmm?”

Connor gulped and slightly squeakily whispered, “Yes mum, I’ll be good. Who’ll look after you though?”

Ziio treated the question seriously, which Charles appreciated, Connor was genuinely worried and it was no good belittling his concerns.

“Kanen'tó:kon’s family will be checking in on me.”

Connor looked happy at that, leaning forward to kiss his mother on the cheek. Laughing Ziio stood and said, “Tidy up now and choose which toys you would like to bring.” Connor instantly grabbed his kitten and gathered up a stuffed wolf and three of his figurines. He stumbled with them to another door that Ziio hurriedly opened.

While they were pre-occupied Charles sent a questioning look at Haytham who allowed a brief upturn of his lips. It had been a success then. Very pleased Charles decided to clean up his mess and had his stuff when Ziio and Connor appeared.

Ziio was bearing a child’s knapsack and hauling a rather full duffel bag with the kitten perched on it precariously. Connor bounded over to the couch and touched his bow and arrow staring beseechingly at Charles.

Oh damn.

“Ah, Haytham?”

“Yes Charles?”

John became interested in this scene from where he had been casually surveying the street and grinning folded his arms across his chest.

“Can Connor bring his bow and arrow? I promised to ask.” Haytham examined the set with doubt creasing his features. “We can prepare a range in the back garden and ensure Connor only plays there with one of us present. It’ll be good training,” Charles added softly.

Haytham considered this, “Very well, but son?”

“Yes father?”

“You will hand the bow and arrow over to Charles and you must always obey when you can and cannot use it.”

Connor beamed, “Yes father!”

He ran over to Charles pushing them into his hands. Chuckling Charles carefully tucked the offending bow and arrow under his arm.

“Here son,” Ziio helped Connor put on his knapsack. Connor scooped up his kitten, seized Charles’ right hand much to Charles’ proud surprise and announced, “Ready!”

Haytham twitched and said, “Excellent.” Holding the duffel bag Haytham gestured for Charles to walk behind him with Connor.

“John, please go ahead.”

John didn’t waste a word, just left with a curt “nice to meet you”.

Charles squashed his fear and jealously, now much reduced in potency after witnessing Haytham’s distance and sugared by Connor’s eagerness and friendliness and extended his left arm, trying not to drop the bow and arrow, from between his body.

“It was good to meet again Ziio. We’ll keep an eye on Connor for you and I’m sure we’ll have fun won’t we?” Connor shook his head vigorously in agreement.

Ziio’s astonishment was painful, but she graciously shook his hand and Charles relaxed. “The same Charles.”

“Goodbye then Ziio.” Releasing their grip Haytham quickly rearranged the bow and arrow that Charles was pinning to himself since he had shaken Ziio’s hand, thereby allowing Charles to hold them in his free hand once more. Then, guiding Connor, Charles hastily left, seeing Ziio’s urgent gesture to do so.

She was right Charles discovered as Connor barely protested, occupied now with the wide world and lack of a dramatic exit.

Haytham slipped in front of them, alert as ever, eagle vision sweeping the corridor where John stood watch at the end.

 In this fashion with Charles spending the entire journey listening to Connor’s barrage of questions they safely reached their car. Placing the duffel bag into the boot, Haytham hesitated.

“Ah, Ziio wrote a list of instructions.” Charles paid attention while keeping an eye on Connor who was peering into the open backseat, frowning at his child chair.

“She said we should allow Connor to keep his knapsack and give him his colouring book for the trip otherwise he’ll be bored.” Haytham packed the bow and arrow away, scowling, “Oh and to stop frequently for toilets.”

“Oh dear,” murmured Charles. “I think I should finish reading that book ASAP Haytham.”

“Please do.”

“So?” said John, “What do we do now?”

“Get Connor strapped in,” decided Haytham, “and John, keep a hold on his knapsack.”

“Okay Connor,” Charles lifted a shocked Connor into the car seat, “time to start our adventure to Boston!”

Connor reached out for Charles, upsetting Charles’ attempts to buckle him in. “But I haven’t seen the front of the car yet!”

Charles caught those sneaky gabby hands and firmly if gently said, “You will when we reach Boston, because the front can only be explored once the journey is over. It’s…it’s like when we were exploring New York. We couldn’t reach the top of the building until we climbed up right?”

“Yeeeesssss.”

Charles with care slid the belt over and clicked it into place. “So, the front cannot be explored until we reached Boston.”

Connor pouted but relented. Charles felt Haytham pat him on the back and relieved he checked that the belt wasn’t too tight. Connor obediently sat still, holding his kitten and watching curiously as John settled in beside him.

Charles finished and pulled out slightly, “Are you comfortable Connor? Not too tight or loose anywhere?”

“Nope!”

“Sure?”

“Yes Mr Lee.”

“Good.” Shutting the door with a strong snick, Charles went to the front and heard the shocked howl that almost sent him spinning into the car as he rushed back to Connor.

John was still, rigid with panic.

“Connor what’s the matter?”

Haytham was leaning over John, snapping at him to gather himself. “Son? What’s the matter?”

Connor gulped, “Where are you going?”

“To the front,” replied Charles confused and still stunned.

“But you said we can’t go to the front until we reach Boston!” cried Connor.

_Oh…oh dear…_

Casting an apologetic look at Haytham, Charles squeezed Connor’s hands. “I’m sorry Connor, I usually sit in the front with your father so it was natural. Would you rather I sat in the back?”

Charles saw Haytham’s displeased demeanour and was anxious at disappointing the man he loved and admired most, yet Connor was clearly upset – and weren’t they trying to bond with the child?

“Haytham?” he tentatively inquired. Charles saw the understanding dawn in the Grandmaster and felt that surge of awe and pleasure at how easily they could read each other, knew each other.

“Well son? Would you like Charles to sit with you?”

Connor nodded, sniffling. “Then I’m out of here,” remarked John, pushing brazenly past Haytham and rather gleefully abandoning the crying child. Charles let go of Connor’s hand and said mock sternly, “Hold the fort Connor until I join you.”

Connor weakly smiled and watched anxiously until he loped around and was hauling himself in beside him. Charles found Haytham calmly doing his belt, eyes locked with his, appreciation and a smidgeon of apology in those wonderful grey eyes. Charles wanted desperately to kiss Haytham and he thought Haytham desired to as well, but conscious of Connor they contented themselves with that simple pure exchange.

Haytham finished and withdrew shutting the door and getting behind the wheel. Connor pushed his kitten at Charles still sniffling and Charles smiled widely, stroking the proffered fur. “So Connor, how shall we pass the time on our trip over the leagues to Boston?”

Connor wrinkled his nose at his language, but declared, “I spy!”

“Excellent, shall I begin?”

“Yup.”

“I spy with my little eye…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter they arrive back in Boston. Charles is told the result of Haytham and John’s conversation with Ziio and the trio experience the battle of putting a four year to bed. Connor also meets Thomas and William…and somehow the world doesn’t end. Any requests for such a momentous meeting? ;)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor sees his new home for the first time and the Templars swiftly learn how unprepared they are for a four year old child. Charles is filled in with what occurred in his colleague’s meeting with Ziio. The next day William and Thomas enter the scene, much to Connor’s fascination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =# Crisps = American chips . 
> 
> =# The end has a rather intimate scene. The scene also contains minor d/s themes and a brief gagging aspect – so avoid if this is a trigger!
> 
> =# I must give my thanks to my lovely beta, rae_fa, (and I am sorry for not doing so in Chapter 4!) who has been an immense help in ensuring that Connor sounds like a four year old. Rae_fa is invaluable in explaining what is realistic and answering my questions, on top of the usual SPAG! So my gratefulness and thanks! :D 
> 
> The archery scene is for sebastiandragon!

* * *

 

The journey back to Boston was interesting to say the least. Charles had never realised how much a four year old could talk or how quickly they became bored and demanded entertainment. Charles partly assumed that in Connor’s case it was nerves, for he was in a car with essentially three strangers, one who happened to be his father and most likely the one man he had spent the most time with was not his father but Charles.

The trip was no different. Charles spent the majority of his time, well fine, all of his time caring for Connor (even when he had been colouring the boy would explain and ask what Charles thought) and anxiously trying to draw Haytham in.

It had taken until the second toilet stop for Haytham to switch driving with John and twist in the front passenger seat a little and occasionally join in on a game. Charles was simply grateful for small victories.

They had left Ziio’s flat at 12:15 to discover horrendous traffic even before they hit the highway. The journey was broken with frequent toilet stops and at one point a nap, which entailed Connor curled up on the backseat (child seat on the ground by the front door), covered by Charles’ jacket while Haytham and John stood silent vigil outside and Charles sat in the front fighting off lethargy as well.

As a result it was verging on six in the evening by the time they reached their home in Boston. Connor had finally fallen quiet and was yawning a bit, though his eyes remained bright and curious about his father’s home town. 

“Mr Lee?”

“Yes Connor?” Charles smiled, even though he was weary and could use a break.

“Are we there yet?”

Charles laughed at the affronted tone, “Yes we are Connor. I’ll unbuckle you and you’ll see your father’s house.”

Connor brightened at the prospect of being freed and squirmed as Charles, now very well practised, undid his belt. He leant on the window and stared out eyes wide. Charles hastily said, “Don’t try and open the door until I’m there Connor.”

“I know,” sighed Connor, pouting. John sniggered at the picture, “Got him trained already Charles?”

Thank goodness the man had the sense to speak quietly. Glaring at his supposed friend Charles slipped out and walked around the side. Haytham was unloading the boot and as Charles passed caught him by the wrist. Startled Charles found eager lips touching his own, deeply and yearningly. A tongue slipped brazenly into his mouth and Charles responded eagerly. Moaning in pleasure Charles relaxed into Haytham who held him tightly in strong arms for a brief moment before releasing him.

Dark grey eyes bore into his pale blue, “Thank you Charles for your patience. I truly appreciate it.”

Charles flushed, “It’s not a trial Haytham, but a joy. It is easy to love your son.”

Haytham smiled and it filled Charles with delight at the happy surprise in his lover’s face. Haytham nodded towards the car, speaking softly, “I do believe it is returned Charles. Go to Connor and we’ll settle down for the night.”

Elated Charles rounded the car and tapping the window for Connor to shuffle back Charles carefully opened the door. Helping Connor out he watched as the boy stretched to loosen stiff muscles. He was clutching his cat in his arms along with his colouring book.

“Which one is yours Mr Lee?”

“Ours son,” called Haytham, “this is your home now as well when you visit us.”

Connor bit his bottom lip, a mixture of pleased and reluctant; understandable emotions in the circumstances. 

Charles gently reached for Connor’s hand, tugging his right to him. Crouching he hugged the suddenly shy boy, whispering in his ear, “It’s okay. It’s been a big day, but Haytham is right. This is your home now.” Peeling back Charles smiled encouragingly, “And that means you have to report to your mother how everything is like. So we better get started huh?”

The mention of Ziio had Connor looking like me might cry, but he was also clearly interested in telling his mother about his new home away from home. So he nodded. Grinning and relieved Charles stood.

“Very well then, are you ready to explore Connor? Remember we have to map out the front of the car first!”

Eyes wide at the reminder Connor yelped and twisting back to the car, said urgently, “My bag!”

“Here you are,” declared John handing the bag to Connor, “now watch out for the road.”

“Thanks Mr Pitcairn!”

Charles ensured he had a good grip and decided to access the front of the car from the driver’s side which was on the pavement; they could explore the passenger seat from there. He really didn’t need to risk the road. Normally their car was parked in the garage, but this was Abstergo’s car, which would be returned shortly.

Excited, Connor clambered in. As Charles explored with Connor he noted how John carried all their gear in, while Haytham took it upon himself to ensure his son and lover’s safety by maintaining vigil over them. It was sweet and domestic. Charles loved it and prayed there would be many days like it.

Once Connor had deemed to his satisfaction there was nothing left to poke he struggled out with Charles. Bouncing and all too energetic for a lad whose bedtime was seven, Connor now clasped Charles’ hand with renewed vigour.

“I’m hungry!”

Charles swung their hands. “Hmmm…well we better get inside huh?”

Connor nodded and cautiously padded forwards. Charles didn’t hurry him, instead aiming for a causal and relaxed approach. It worked and Connor stepped inside where John was waiting by the entrance. Charles gently ushered Connor down the corridor and into the living room.

His eyes popped open. Connor stared at the living room full of their two sofas, armchairs, shining TV and low table nestled in the middle of the sofas and armchairs.

“It’s huge!” he breathed, awed.

“Indeed son,” Haytham stepped up beside them, looking down at his son. “You should see the rest of the house.”

Connor boggled, “It’s all massive?”

Charles smiled, “Well, maybe not everything.”

Connor seemed overwhelmed and swung his head around attempting to absorb all he could. Leading him further into the room Charles managed to pry the knapsack out of loose fingers. Connor climbed onto the sofa and stared up at him. “Where’s my bedroom?”

“Upstairs, on the first floor next to ours. Would you like to see it?”

“Yep.”

Charles looked over at Haytham and said hopefully, “Haytham can you help me?” Actually Charles didn’t require any particular assistance, he just wanted father and son to bond as he could tell how wary both were around each other. Currently Connor was bonding strongly with him, which Charles was thankful for, but ideally Connor ought to have a more powerful connection with his dad.

Haytham inclined his head graciously, “Of course Charles.” Hesitatingly Haytham held out his right hand. Connor frowned at the proffered hand from his father and glanced up at Charles who felt his heart squeeze.

“You have to escort your father Connor. Who knows what could be hiding on those stairs?”

Charles hoped he hadn’t inadvertently scared the boy.

Connor scowled and whined, “But father is a knight you said! Aren’t you?” he demanded of Haytham who was stunned. Grey assessing eyes turned to Charles and the glimmer of reproach made Charles’ belly clench.

“It slipped out sir. I only said we were knights who were trying to protect his people.”

Connor nodded in agreement, “ _And_ that you are fighting bad people to look after everyone.”

Haytham managed to collect himself and Charles saw the reprimand fade, he seemed resigned and if Charles wasn’t being too fanciful, intrigued by the chance provided by fate.

“Yes, we are Knights Connor. Our cause is very important. It is also secret.”

“Mr Lee said so! He said I have to promise.” Connor looked proud, chest swelling with importance.

It was terribly sweet and Charles hastily wiped the smile off his face when Connor glanced at him. Connor would be offended if he thought Charles was not taking him seriously.

“I did. Haytham, it will have to be a short one. And um ceremonial?”

Connor’s nose crinkled. “Cere…cere…?”

“Dress up in capes that sort of thing,” called out John. Connor was enthused by that.

Haytham actually smiled at his son, “I think we can deliver, but it will be tomorrow when we are rested. After all, we must plan it properly. Now even a Knight can require back-up so son?”

This time Connor accepted his father’s hand and assured Charles was coming by seizing Charles with his left in a grip that was surprisingly strong. In such a manner they ascended the stairs to explore.

= = =

Charles found it rather fun showing Connor the first floor as the boy was so terribly eager to see everything. He would demand to explore every nook and cranny ere they left a room and then would state his approval or not.

Connor seemed quite taken aback by the size of his bedroom, (which up until now had been one of two guest bedrooms). Charles knew the room was slightly barren for a child as it contained only a single bed in the middle with a bedside table and a chest of drawers with a hastily added cupboard shoved against the far wall – a window overlooked the garden - but since they had only purchased belongings for Connor’s room he hoped they could be forgiven.

“This is your room son. I know it isn’t quite ready for a four year old boy, but I assure you that you will be able to decorate the room the way you like it…within reason of course.”

Connor wrinkled his nose as he figured out some of his father’s comment and Charles smiled. Haytham was trying very hard to connect with Connor, which Charles appreciated was difficult. For all his virtues, Haytham was reserved and perhaps could be said by some to be a trifle cold. Charles didn’t think this was bad, it simply meant that Haytham was cautious with whom he shared information with and even more vitally who he revealed personal knowledge to – knowledge that could leave a Grandmaster vulnerable to their most ancient enemy, the Assassin’s Order.

 In contrast Charles always wore his emotions on his sleeve, swinging from one temper to the next – something he would have to learn to control with Connor present – and while he exercised wariness in whom he met, Charles knew his feelings were read more easily than others.

In this case, it made getting to know Connor was more natural for Charles than Haytham, _but_ Charles was determined to make it as easy for Haytham and his son as possible.

“Great!” Connor swung to Charles, eyes wide. “Can I put my figures on the table?”

“Of course, we also have some things for you too.”

“More presents?” Connor was practically bouncing now.

Haytham chuckled, “Yes Connor. And once the bed covers are washed you can choose which one you wish to use first.” Haytham gestured towards the cupboard, “Your clothes will go in there and in the chest we can place underwear and so on. We even have a basket for your toys.”

Connor beamed, “Thanks father! Mr Lee!”

“You’re welcome,” chorused Haytham and Charles in synch, which made Haytham smile at Charles who experienced that same flutter every time Haytham singled him out with such a winning, affectionate smile meant just for Charles.

“Well, how about you put down your rucksack, cat and colouring book,” suggested Haytham, “and we can go eat.”

Charles glanced at his watch and winced. Haytham was correct, they had to feed Connor as it was now six thirty and his bedtime was supposed to be seven! Connor frowned, eyes filling with tears.

“I can’t bring my cat?” he asked, voice trembling, turning to face Charles.

_Damn._ Worried by the sudden tears and possible threat of a full scale outburst, Charles crouched so he was level with Connor. He saw the tears ready to spill, but also the exhaustion and…fear? Charles wanted to curse in frustration at their stupidity. Of _course_ Connor was afraid. He was in a new house with people he was just beginning to get to know, with his mother nowhere near and the only thing that was Connor’s was his new cat and his toys. Was it surprising he wished to hold on to something familiar amidst the alien environment?

Anxious to comfort Charles pulled Connor into a hug and murmured, “Of course you can bring her.” Releasing Connor, Charles smiled and pulled out a tissue to wipe Connor’s wet eyes.

“How about supper?”

Connor swallowed and brightened, hands clutching his cat tightly.

As he stood Charles found Haytham studying him with a closed expression. His brief flash of alarm was allayed when Haytham inclined his head and squeezed his shoulder as he passed, ushering Connor ahead. Relieved, Charles joined Connor and Haytham and together they returned downstairs to find John was in the process of starting supper for Connor, a pot was on the stove full of beans and bread was waiting in the toaster. A simple favourite for children: baked beans on toast. Also an easy meal at this late hour.

Connor grinned and enthusiastically scrambled onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Charles grabbed Connor and carefully helped him sit. He noted they would have to ensure all meals were done in the living area or by a lower table as the chairs were too tall and dangerous for a four year old.

“How about cushions?” suggested John.

It was so obvious that Charles wanted to kick himself. Then again John did have children. “Thanks John.”

Noticing Haytham was busy Charles picked up Connor and fetched the cushions as quickly as he could. Connor found the entire process amusing and twisted on his cushions as Charles pulled a chair close. Doing his best to stop Connor Charles saw Haytham pull out the plastic plate, cutlery and plastic beaker they had brought. Far safer than the china they normally used and easier for Connor to grip.

Haytham set to washing them in hot soapy water while Connor, thankfully no longer entertained by his cushions was  ‘walking’ his cat on the table’ and watching John with interest. “Are you married?” he suddenly asked.

John looked up from the stove and seemed amused by the question, “Aye, I am. To a lovely woman named Elizabeth.”

Connor chewed his bottom lip. Charles gently reprimanded him, “Don’t do that Connor, it will hurt.”

Connor shrugged and asked, “Do you have children?”

“Yes.”

“That I can play with?”

John smiled, eyes bright. “Yes lad. Three sons and two daughters so far, David, William and Robert and Annie and Katherine. Robert is only a year older and Katherine is a year younger, my other three are seven, eight and ten.”

“Huh huh. Mr Lee?”

“Yes Connor?” Charles reached out brushed stray hair back form Connor’s face who whined as any typical four year old.

“Can I play with Mr Pitcairn’s children?” Charles exchanged looks with Haytham who nodded encouragingly. Charles’s heart constricted, Haytham was giving implicit permission for Charles to be the one to say something. He understood what that signified: Haytham saw him as equal in handling Connor, his son, and Charles promised to show his gratefulness to Haytham later – preferably with ‘Master’ and ‘Sir’ littered judiciously since that appeared to be a turn on for the Grandmaster.

Barely functioning through the delight Charles replied, “If Mr Pitcairn is happy then yes.”

Connor turned his attention to John, his entire face one sea of hope, brown eyes dark with anticipation.

John chuckled, “I think that’ll be fine Connor. Just be gentle with my lass Katherine.”

“I will be!” promised Connor sitting up straight. “I’ll keep her safe!”

All three of them were amused by that.

“When?”

“How about you settle in first and perhaps not tomorrow but the day after? You’ll be meeting Mr Hickey and Mr Johnson tomorrow after all.” _May the Father of Understanding have mercy on us!_

“Okay,” said Connor happily.

Charles relaxed.

Haytham dried the plates and John doled up the toast and beans. Putting it in front of Connor Haytham sat opposite as did John. Recalling what he had read Charles hovered, prepared to assist Connor if necessary.

Haytham seemed fascinated by his actions, one eyebrow raised as if this was a foreign experiment worthy of analysis. Charles wanted to remark that both could join in, but was kept busy with keeping Connor’s cat from falling into his plate as Connor had to have her perched right next to his dish and refilling his glass with squash.

Supper thankfully was over quickly when to Charles’ immense surprise Haytham stood and said he would wash Connor.

“Are you sure Sir – Haytham? I can help?”

“No need Charles, you rest. I’ll take over.”

Connor wore a baffled expression as his father lifted him down. “Mr Lee?” He stared up at his father, “Mr Lee not’s coming? Will Mr Lee read me a story?”

Haytham clearly decided carrying Connor was simpler and he hefted his son into his arms. “No, he must eat something and then he’ll join us. And of course he will.”

Peering over his father’s shoulder Connor gazed at Charles and he could have sworn that the boy thought Charles was abandoning him to a fate worse than death. Charles was frankly astounded at how guilty a child could make you feel.

“I’ll be there Connor,” Charles aimed for soothing. He had sudden insight that ‘soothing’, ‘relaxing’ and ‘gentle’ were going to be very familiar actions for Haytham and him before long. Picking up Connor’s cat he handed her to Connor who pressed the soft fur against his cheek. “I have to unpack your bedding and set it to wash.”

Connor sighed as this was not a favourable answer and resigned himself to being ‘stolen’ by his father.

Once they had disappeared, Connor’s put out expression and Haytham’s exasperated look carved into his mind, Charles turned to John who just laughed. “You get used to it Charles.”

“You mean your children do this all the time?” Charles was slightly horrified.

“Yes,” remarked John who was far too unsympathetic and happy for Charles’ liking. “And they refine their techniques as they grow. You have to develop an immunity to it otherwise children sense your weakness and they’ll exploit it ‘til you feel as you have just survived an attack by assassins.”

“I thought that was _cats_.”

“Nope,” John sipped his tea, “I personally think they’re in league though.”

Charles put his head onto his folded arms and groaned as John snickered.

Haytham’s startled yelps and _“Connor! Behave!”_ echoed down the stairs and Charles fervently prayed they would survive.

= = =

It was much later when Haytham unceremoniously picked up Charles and _carried_ him to bed.  Charles was mortified. Yes, he was exhausted but he could still walk, the fact he was slumped on the sofa, feet in Haytham’s lap and mostly incoherent to the world was nothing.

“I can manage Haytham.”

Charles gazed blearily up at Haytham, from where he rested his cheek on Haytham’s shoulder. This close Haytham smelled of the fresh aftershave he used overlaid by his masculine odour of sweat. It was uniquely Haytham and Charles adored it.

Haytham’s lips twitched and his tired eyes crinkled at the corners. “Indeed Charles. That is why you look worse than when you’ve been on a field operation for a week.”

Charles grumbled, and watched Haytham, eyes slits. He swore Haytham was enjoying his behaviour for the Grandmaster’s arms held him closer, crushing him against the solid frame.

“I’m not used to four year olds.”

“None of us are. Alas, my dear Charles you have borne the brunt of it today. You may think I did not notice, but I did – all day you spent playing with my son and looking after him, both in New York and our journey home. Then you were escorted through our house by Connor and finally had to read him a story.”

“It was a pleasure.” Charles glowed with happiness at the endearment from the normally serious Knight.

Haytham brushed a kiss on his forehead, climbing the stairs carefully. “I know and love you all the more for it Charles. Yet then you washed Connor’s bed sheets, refusing assistance and proceeded to unpack his toys and clothes and wash them too.”

Charles blushed and squirmed a little, but stopped as Haytham constricted his grip, warning clear. They entered the bedroom and Charles sighed, “I just felt one person could do it faster than three.”

Haytham chuckled and eased him down, keeping one arm wrapped around him so Charles was leaning against him. “You mean you didn’t trust John or I to not mess it up; understandable given the circumstances. I assure you that I’ll make a bigger effort to…connect with Connor. It is just all so strange.”

Charles clumsily kissed Haytham on the jaw, day old stubble just abrading his lips. “I’m not surprised, it’s a new way of life for all of us.”

Haytham opened the door to the en suite and Charles realised suddenly through his weary state that they were in _Haytham’s_ bedroom.

“Sir?” Charles couldn’t stem the wonder in his voice.

Haytham glanced at him and lifting his spare left hand cradled his head. Charles could feel the long powerful fingers curling through his hair, pulling him closer. Haytham dipped his breath a ghost like presence across his skin, his mouth.

“Lovers share a room. And as my room is larger and contains a double bed I deemed it most sensible for us to share.” Haytham feather-like began to chase his lips across Charles’ skin and Charles found breathing become heavier. Everywhere Haytham’s lips travelled goosebumps rose and Charles shivered.

Heat coiled in his loins and even through his tiredness Charles’ cock twitched. Haytham stopped, hovering over Charles’ mouth. “I have waited a long time for this Charles. If you object say so now.”

Their breaths mingled as Charles whispered, “I have no intention of rejecting your offer Haytham.” Boldly Charles kissed Haytham savouring the taste and as Haytham responded, Charles lost himself to sucking lips and the firm grip on his head.

Breaking off Charles gulped air and curious asked, “If I had said no would you have let me go?”

Haytham smiled charmingly, the light from the bathroom bathing half his face, the other half dark. “Of course Charles,” he murmured. He pulled Charles’ head down, kissing his forehead moving down to deposit kisses to his eyes and cheeks. “It is always your choice.”

Charles blinked and felt the iron cage that held him upright against Haytham’s side and the unyielding hand in his hair, fingertips gently rubbing his scalp. The odd glint in his Grandmaster’s eyes was at odds with his words and Charles was almost sure that Haytham would never let him go now that he had him.

The notion should have terrified Charles yet it did not. Rather, something twisted inside him, like the gears in a lock finally sliding home after years rusted in open. Charles was possessive and he was thrilled to know that Haytham was even more possessive and territorial over what he declared ‘his’. Yes that was probably screwed up, but Charles had no issue with this as their desires matched perfectly.

“Good to know Sir.”

Haytham grinned, the slow lazy grin of a predator that had captured its prey and nipping his bottom lip, Haytham withdrew. “Then let’s prepare for bed Charles, we have a huge day tomorrow. Hopefully you shan’t be too tired the next night.” Haytham spun Charles around and slid a leg between Charles’ legs, pressing up. Charles hummed at the pressure on his cock. “I have plans.”

Charles panted and nodded fearing if he spoke he would embarrass himself. Pleased, Haytham supported Charles to the washbasin. They washed together at the washbasin, Charles electing not to shower until the morning. He would drown if he tried and if Haytham, as Charles thought he might, decided to help he definitely wanted to be in a state to obtain full enjoyment from the experience.

However, as they stumbled to Haytham’s bed in the dark Charles discovered that Haytham lived up to his determined nature as firm, confident hands began removing his clothes. Too weary to think and protest Charles subjected to the situation without much real unhappiness. After all, who would cry out against Haytham unbuttoning their shirt, fingers running over your skin as he peeled the shirt off?

Charles certainly wouldn’t. Sitting on the bed Charles tilted his head back to watch as Haytham unbuckled Charles’ belt and unzipped. It was erotic yet sweet the mix of gentle care and obvious overtones of desire as Haytham allowed himself the pleasure of cupping a pale hip bone and sensually running fingers over his crotch.

“On the bed Charles,” Haytham rasped and shivering Charles swung his legs up and nestled his head onto the comfortable pillow. He could still observe Haytham who now stood stooped over him.

“Lift your hips.” The command sent another shiver down his spine and recalling his experiment through the hazy daze Charles did as bid, “Yes Master Kenway.”

In the darkness only disturbed by the bathroom light Charles saw Haytham flick his gaze to him, face impenetrable. His hands however took on a rougher more dominant measure as he firmly slid the trousers down, ensuring he touched Charles’ long legs as he did. Charles gasped at the touch wanting more but too tired to fully react. Despairing ever so slightly Charles shifted only to have Haytham grip his ankle. “Be still Charles.”

“Yes sir.”

Haytham stroked his ankle in reply, petting it. Charles’ socks followed and oh damn…Haytham without preamble slid fingers into the waistband of Charles’ pants and urged them down. Charles lifted his hips seeing the order in the inclination of Haytham’s head, nervous as he was. Haytham swiftly eased his underwear over his feet and turned to fold them.  Exposed like this, Charles felt more vulnerable in the darkened bedroom than he had curled against Haytham with Haytham’s hand on his cock.

Haytham had left to retrieve sleepwear from his chest of drawers. He returned and blatantly scoped Charles’ naked form. Hell, if Haytham was using Eagle Vision Charles would play dirty tomorrow night and use ‘Master’ and ‘Sir’ with as much regularity as he could ere Haytham silenced him. The prospect was promising and Charles struggled not to show how much he was aroused by the situation, thankfully his worn out body was at last accommodating.

Haytham grinned and held out a pair of pyjama shorts. “This sufficient Charles?”

“Yes Sir.”

Haytham raised an eyebrow, but only licked his lips. “Hips up.”

Charles sighed and allowed Haytham to slide them on. Then he watched in happy fascination as Haytham shed his shirt and shucked his trousers with haste. Silhouetted Haytham was imposing, scary and damn sexy. The confidence Haytham exuded was intoxicating and infectious and Charles was eager to have Haytham join him – for this, the first time sharing a _proper_ bed.

Haytham simply put on pyjama shorts as well and neglecting his top as he usually wore, (as did Charles, he always attired ‘fully’ for sleep with a top and shorts or trousers – who the hell knew when you might have to leap out of bed ready to fight?), so Charles realised as his eyes became heavy that Haytham wished to share body contact.

Smiling Charles felt the bed dip and slowly focused on Haytham who in the sudden full darkness of the room, with just a sliver of light from the street now noticeable, was a shadowy menace by his side. Hands touched him and Charles sighed at the concern they exhibited and obeying their silent directions Charles managed to pull the covers over him. Then Haytham was a hot burning presence by his side and Charles too tired to fear a negative reaction to counter the love and confidence Haytham had instilled in him pressed as close as possible, dropping his head to Haytham’s shoulder.

Lips brushed his hair and an arm weighed solidly, securely, over him. “Good night Charles.”

“Good night Haytham.”

Sleep overwhelmed him and Charles fell to dreams with Haytham holding him.

= = =

“Mr Lee!” the shriek had Charles sitting up in an instant wide awake. Well, attempting to sit up for he had a visitor straddling him. Blinking Charles peered up at Connor.

An impression of distress rapidly cooling into relief was painted on his little face. Haytham meanwhile had also naturally awoken and they were both lucky that their instincts hadn’t made them react defensively to Connor’s abrupt arrival.

“Um, good morning Connor.” Charles twisted to peer at Haytham’s bedside clock. _Seven am?_ “You’re up early.”

Connor nodded frantically tugged at the covers. Charles caught the bedspread in a grip as he recalled he wasn’t wearing a shirt. A fact that didn’t seem to faze Connor as some of the covers had slipped to reveal his bare chest. Oh, my, what would the boy say about his father sharing a bed with his ‘friend’?

“Uh huh. I’m hungry!”

Haytham sighed, he grey eyes apologising as he caught Charles’ gaze.

“Indeed?” Charles watched as Haytham’s son bounced again and tired peeling the covers off more. As Connor successfully made headway Charles realised this was a losing battle and relinquished his hold. Squeaking in delight Connor suddenly scrambled over him.

“Whoa, Connor! Careful with your knees!”

“Okay,” mumbled Connor and Charles found a four year boy squirming under the covers and between him and the lad’s father. Haytham was clearly not impressed.

Charles tried to prevent any shouting – not a good tone to set the day to. “So you got up because you were hungry? Do you normally rise early?”

Connor traced the hairs on his chest, apparently fascinated by his discovery. “And I was bored. Why do you and father have hair on your chests? I don’t.”

Haytham coughed, “I feel that’s a discussion for another day son.”

Charles reached for Connor’s hand and gently removed it, holding the wandering hand firmly. He had rather been hoping that Connor would sleep considering how exhausted the boy had been, not to mention the emotionally wearing aspect of yesterday. However, recalling the distress he had glimpsed when he first saw Connor, Charles thought perhaps an early rise wasn’t so unusual.

Stroking mussed hair, Charles smiled warmly, “That’s fine. Did you remember where you were when you woke up?”

Dark eyes became anxious again and a faint red suffused the dark cheeks. “The room was different.”

Haytham put an arm around Connor, “It won’t always be son.” Haytham nudged Connor around so his son was staring up at him, still snuggled against Charles though. “Once we decorate the room how you want it Connor, everything will be well again.”

Connor sniffed. “Uh huh, morning father.”

“Morning son.”

It was a marvellous sight to see father and son bonding and Charles felt so privileged to not only witness it, but to be part of that bonding. It was splendid.

Shifting Charles released Connor’s hand and shifted so he could slip out of bed. “Where are you going?” gasped Connor as he tumbled out, Charles catching the boisterous boy at the last minute. “To dress and then we can go to your room.”

Connor frowned surprisingly at his statement and wriggled. A suspicion dawned, “Have you been to the toilet yet?”

“Um no.” Connor shook his head, mouth trembling. Charles knew Connor must have been too nervous when he had woken up to go and befuddled by his dreams scared by this new place. Naturally he had fled to the only people he knew in this strange house.

“Alright then,” Charles reassured, “toilet stop first and maybe you can help me pick my clothes.”

Haytham actually laughed as his son agreed by grabbing Charles’ hand and tugging impatient to start. As he escorted Connor to the adjoining bathroom Charles glanced sideways at Haytham who winked and climbed out of bed.

Sighing and still worried by the inevitable questions Connor would ask about why they were sharing a bed, Charles busied himself with overseeing Connor then being subjected to a dress code. Connor did scrunch his face up, confused, when Charles led him to his old room instead of staying with his father.

However, the lad was quickly distracted by Charles’ colourful wardrobe and the Second-in-Command to the Templar Order of the Colonial Rite, the seneschal to Haytham, ended up donning jeans, ( _how_ did they get there? Must have been Thomas), a brown leather belt with swirling patterns and if you looked closely, where the buckle fastened the end together a symbol was formed of the ancient Temple of Solomon from which they derived their name.

Connor also rather enthusiastically selected a scarlet shirt pairing a red cravat to it. He was an eye sore, but on the other hand Connor was relaxing so Charles deemed it a win, even as he privately wondered if Connor was colour-blind.

Haytham poked his head as they finished and blinked a fleeting expression of horror on his face ere he composed an aura of amusement tinged with affection. That tightness in his chest was going to become annoying Charles was sure.

“Finished?”

“Yes!” shrilled Connor.

“Then come son, let’s get you dressed.”

Haytham beckoned Connor who bossily ordered Charles to follow. Laughing openly Charles did as ordered and had the pleasure of watching as Haytham tried dressing his son.

It began with Haytham allowing his son to choose, which went well. Connor selected a T-shirt with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle on the front and cotton trousers. Wisely, Haytham had already laid out socks and pants. Then he stood back and gestured for his son to dress.

Connor just blinked then warily began yanking on his shirt. “Oh dear,” whispered Charles as he saw Connor become tangled in the sleeves then when he had successfully pushed his head through, the shirt was on backwards. Matters didn’t improve as Connor somehow put his trousers on but fumbled with the buttons.

Charles opened his mouth to intervene, but Haytham hurriedly got up, “Son, here, let me help you.”

Carefully navigating Connor’s shirt off Haytham replaced it the correct way and then did the buttons up on his son’s trousers. It was a sweet scene as Charles watched Connor trying to ‘help’ and speak dramatically about his dream of having a pet cat that curled up on his bed and explored cities with him, while somehow being a knight.

Charles wasn’t sure how much of this story was a dream and how much was made up right there, but it was fun, particularly since Connor looked much happier by the end.

“Breakfast!” cried the four year old, a ball of energy whipping around them as he grabbed his kitten, his wolf and then barrelled straight to Charles to stand vibrating beside him. “Okay Connor, we’re going!” chuckled Charles. “Are you sure you wish to bring both your wolf and cat along?”

“Yup! They’re hungry too.”

Haytham fell into step as they walked out and towards the stairs. He pushed in front to protect Connor as they walked slowly down, in case his lively son fell.

John appeared at the bottom. “Morning Haytham, Charles…Connor. I’ve put the tea on, but wasn’t sure what to make for breakfast? I did pop out to quickly buy some children’s cereals and you do have porridge, bread and toppings in your cupboards.”

Charles nodded in thanks as they all chorused (Connor loudest of all) good morning. “Great. I’ll prepare some food for us?”

“Focus on Connor, Charles,” said Haytham, “I’ll fix our breakfast.”

“Thanks Haytham.”

With that Charles ushered Connor into the kitchen and spent the next half of the morning learning that four year olds were awfully excited _messy_ eaters first thing and also ravenous.

= = =

Much later, when breakfast was over and a morning spent watching TV, sorting out Connor’s new clothes and toys – activities underlined with much delighted shrieking - Charles collapsed on the carpet by their sofa as Connor decided climbing over Charles was his favourite occupation. Charles sensed the beginnings of a tradition, Father of Understanding help him!

Snagging a passing heel Charles pulled Connor close and capturing him in his arms, settled with Connor on the floor, cross-legged. Connor pouted up at him, perched as he was on his lap. “But!”

“No buts, Connor,” said Charles sternly, “our colleagues will be here in a moment and surely you don’t wish to be messy when our friends arrive?”

Connor sniffed and wriggled much like a cat might to make his perch as comfortable as possible. John, blast him, was coughing behind his newspaper. Charles swore to seek revenge though how one did so, on a man already inured to children was a mystery to be unlocked.

The doorbell rang at this point and Haytham entered the living room as he had been ordering work matters in his office. He inclined his head at Charles as he passed and understanding Haytham’s gesture Charles asked Connor, “Want to wait in the garden?”

They had yet to venture into the back garden as Haytham hadn’t wished for Connor to become dirty and even unexperienced as they were, they knew garden plus child equalled filth.

“Yes!” cried Connor who instantly squirmed off his lap only to hold his arms out once Charles was on his feet. Mourning his back and flourishing with new respect for Ziio, Charles lifted Connor and hurried into the garden. He heard John murmur all clear to Haytham then John was beside him opening the screen door.

Stepping outside the sun was a warm presence, capturing the few flowers in their colourful glory: purple tulips and various primroses of white, palest yellow and burnt orange – the latter nestled in the shade of a green shrub. The garden was quite large but sparse, the grass neatly trimmed. They stood on a pretty patio of washed pink slabs, with a garden table out surrounded with six chairs, enough for the inner group. Tall fences boarded the back lawn, being completely smooth so no enterprising Assassin could manage a grip, nor were there any trees to prevent similar incursions.

The flowers and shrubs were there mostly to set off the otherwise stark grimness of the bare garden. Connor however appeared fascinated, especially when his eye caught sight of the small water fountain, water glinting and sparkling in sunlight.  A tasteful bench was placed next to it to allow for peaceful contemplation.

“Can we see?”

“Of course.”

Yet before they could move Haytham was stepping outside and with him two tired men: William Johnson and Thomas Hickey.

“Morning Charles, John,” said William, a weary smile on his face. His jacket was zipped up despite the warmth of the day and he was wearing canvas shoes, clearly loaned by Haytham. Both men had trousers streaked with grass and dust. Charles squashed his inquisitiveness down.

“Morning!” chirped Thomas who was lounging against the wall. “Yikes, you’re bright!”

“Morning William and Thomas. How are you?” Charles asked as he hefted Connor a little more in his arms. The boy was surprisingly heavy and also wriggly. He ignored Thomas’ last remark.

“Bloody tired that’s what and starving too.”

“Thomas!” snapped Haytham and Charles simultaneously.

Haytham continued, “Do _not_ swear in front of my son, understood Thomas?”

The threat was obvious and Thomas blanched, “Yes sir.”

“Good, well let me introduce you to my son.” Haytham glanced over at Connor, who was staring in shock at William and Thomas.

“Connor, these are my friends Mr Johnson and Mr Hickey.” 

“Hello?” offered Connor suddenly shy. Charles guessed it had to do with the fact his mother wasn’t here to smooth over his nerves. Squeezing Connor in comfort, Charles walked towards his friends to assist matters only to have Connor struggle.

Thankfully William saved the moment by calling out a greeting in Kanien'kéha. Connor stopped fighting and gazed at William with awe.

He started nattering excitedly whatever he was saying causing William to chuckle and nod in the affirmative. Charles sneaked a peek at Haytham who flicked cool grey eyes at Charles, yet the slight twist to his mouth belayed his amusement at his son’s burst of confidence.

Thomas rolled his eyes, “Here,” he whined, “speak a tongue we can all understand.”

“That of the beer bottle no like,” murmured Charles quietly then winced: _Connor_. However, the boy was oblivious and Haytham simply raised an eyebrow. When Connor paused to draw breath Haytham intervened.

“Let us all go inside. You can show William and Thomas your toys then Connor.”

Connor blinked, “But Mr Lee was going to show me the fountain!”

“Indeed he shall. However son, please do not answer me back when I ask you to do something.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your father,” Haytham was losing his patience so Charles hastily changed the topic.

“Come on Connor, don’t you want to show your kitten to Mr Johnson and Mr Hickey? You must introduce her.”

Connor sighed, as if the request was too much on top of his father’s decree, but he nodded. “Okay.”

To prevent any escape Charles carried Connor back to the living room where he released him. Connor instantly bounded over to the sofa and selected his wolf and kitten.

“This is Mr Wolf and Miss Kitty!” he declared, chest out as he stated their titles with incredible importance. William and Thomas sat down, Thomas rather ungracefully in the armchair, one leg over the armrest.

William perched beside Connor as Charles, seizing the moment, slunk into the kitchen to fetch refreshments. John followed him.

“Frantically nicking a quiet moment eh?” said John.

Charles would have been offended by the accusation, but not only recalling his promise to react less badly to his friend’s teasing, he noticed the kindness shining in John face.

“Maybe,” rummaging in the cupboard Charles drew out a teapot sufficient for five people and also retrieved five glasses. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Connor, but…”

“It’s hard being the focus of attention for a whole morning, particularly when you’re unused to four year old children.” The sympathy was surprisingly easy to accept.

“Yes, does it become easier?”

John grinned, “Aye, though you’ll miss your sleep over the next few years and wait until he’s a teenager.”

Charles wondered if he could _emigrate_ _back_ to Britain…but no he couldn’t leave Haytham or Connor now.

John clapped him on the shoulder chuckling. “Ah, you’ll do fine, as will Haytham. Don’t worry. Now, what shall I do?”

“Rustle up sandwiches would you? We might as well have lunch now.”

“Any specific fillings?”

“A selection of ham, cheese and jam.”

“No problem. I’ll add crisps to that. ”

“And salad!”

“Salad?”

“For Connor, crisps are unhealthy.”

“I think that parenting book was a bad influence. If you manage to convince the lad to eat salad I’ll salute you, but at least put cucumber and carrot sticks.” John shrugged and busied himself with sandwich preparation.

Scowling, Charles started brewing the tea and grabbed Connor’s plastic glass and plate.

It was only when they had arranged a pile of sandwiches on one tray with plates and another with glasses and the teapot with cups that they registered the ruckus in the living area. Wary Charles picked up the tea tray, John the food one and together they entered to find Thomas singing some song about a cat and dancing around the coffee table.

Connor was watching avidly, mouth open an expression of bewilderment shading his face, his Miss Kitty safely clasped at his chest. Haytham had an exasperated air about him, shoulders tense, but he didn’t dissuade Thomas from his antics. William was amused, slapping his knee in time to Thomas’ wheeling arms.

Charles wasn’t sure if he angry or horrified. Did Thomas want to scar Connor for life? Thomas stopped dancing and smirking jumped onto the table with his filthy socks, the blaggard.  He howled, “And the cats ran into the barn and began to---“

“Thomas!” Shouted Charles. He knew what the idiot had been about to say.

Startled Thomas lost his footing and arms wheeling yelped as he fell backwards onto William who groaned and shoved Thomas to the side.

Connor stood and glaring at the sprawled form said rather haughtily, “You’re a silly man.”

Then he flounced over to his father where he said, “Is Mr Hickey always like this?”

Haytham barely maintained his composure and Charles was trying not to cry with laughter and vindication – Connor and he were of the same opinion regarding Thomas. Wonderful, truly wonderful. A remarkable boy.

“Not always son, he’s simply excited to meet you.”

“Uh huh,” Connor appeared unconvinced. Still glaring at Thomas who was now fighting cushions to sit up, he edged away happening to glance in Charles’ direction. Beaming he instantly ran over.

“Mr Hickey was singing about a cat and dancing!” Connor clutched his jeans, little hand pulling, as if to underscore the importance of his news.

“Careful Connor, I’m carrying hot tea. I don’t wish to spill it on you.”

“I’ll take it Charles,” Haytham gently took the tray and set it on the table. William leant forward and assisted John in serving the food and tea. Thomas, after an order from Haytham began filling the glasses with squash. Haytham pulled the sofa closer to the table.

“Then he jumped on the table and fell.”

“Indeed?” Charles grinned, “And what did you think of that.”

“He’s very silly!”

Charles patted Connor on the head, “Indeed he is.”

Laughing at Thomas’ pout Charles led Connor to the sofa and urged him to sit.

“What would you like Connor? A jam sandwich or ham or cheese?” said Haytham settling on the other side of Connor. Charles had the strangest sensation of them being like a family. The curling warmth inside instilled a very peaceful contentment within his being – it was nice.

“Jam and ham!” enthused Connor.

Haytham picked the two and handed Connor his plate. Connor carefully balanced his blue plate on his lap and much to Charles’ horror opened both sandwiches up and put one slice of jam with one slice of ham.

“You’re not going to um, eat that are you?” asked William around a mouthful, shock overcoming decorum.

Thomas was drinking squash, but also watching. John didn’t seem particularly perturbed and was calmly munching on a sandwich packed with crisps, ham and salad.

“Yup,” said Connor cheerfully. He held out one monstrosity to Charles, “do you want some?”

“Ah…” What to say? “Perhaps just a tiny bite.”

Tentatively Charles took the proffered combination and nibbled away. Oh my, it was dreadfully sweet. Swallowing hastily, Charles was relieved to see Haytham handing over his own sandwich and a glass. Returning Connor’s nightmare Charles said politely, “An interesting flavour, but I think I’ll stick to my cheese.”

Connor shrugged and offered his father a bit. Haytham tried with a rather determined expression as Charles gulped and chewed to banish the taste. Fleeting disgust showed only in the bob of Haytham’s Adam apple then he was handing Connor his bounty.

“Thank you, now eat up.”

On cue Charles returned Haytham’s lunch and watched as the Grandmaster chased away the horrid taste. Meanwhile, humming happily, Connor began devouring his meal. William saluted Charles with his sandwich and John winked. Thomas simply sniggered and snatched up a ham one to choke down.

The rest of lunch passed without incident though Charles only prevailed to persuade Connor to munch on a couple of cucumber sticks. At least it was a slice of progress though Charles was going to do better.

“Okay son,” said Haytham as he watched Charles finish wiping Connors mouth clean and checking greasy hands – (a job that Haytham had willingly handed to Charles), “Charles and I must meet with Mr Pitcairn, Mr Johnson and Mr Hickey. You can watch television or a DVD, but you must behave. No shrieking or running amok.”

“Amok?” enunciated Connor slowly.

“Wild,” said Charles, handing a towel to Connor who clumsily rubbed his hands.

“Oh, what can I watch?”

“We have a few Disney DVDs?” Charles returned the towel to the handrail and guided Connor out of the bathroom.

“Great!”

Connor raced to the TV and prodded the stand eagerly. Charles showed him their small collection and wasn’t surprised that Connor picked Robin Hood. Talking animals it was.

Popping the disc in and settling a glass of squash and apple slices on the table Charles moved next to Haytham, “Enjoy! Don’t go outside without asking your father or me first ok?”

“Yes.”

Haytham said, “Have fun son. We’ll be in my office if you require anything.”

“Uh huh,” Connor nodded already absorbed by the opening credits. He was cute, staring intently at the screen and Charles, while anxious to learn all the information from Haytham and his friendsmissions, was actually sad to leave Connor. The boy was growing on him.

However, they had a vital job to do, namely stopping the Assassins from reaching Juno first.

Following Haytham, Charles discovered that the inner circle was all gathered, (well bar one).

Leaving the door ajar so they could hear Connor’s voice, Charles went to sit on a spare chair.

Haytham took the head of the table, “Gentlemen, let us begin.”

= = =

Picking up a single sheet of paper John handed it to Charles. Glancing at the page Charles noted it listed designations along a route, possibly checkpoints. He recognised the red markers that signified Templar agents.

“That is the route that Ziio will take,” John explained as Charles handed the paper around. “I will be one of the agents ensuring she reaches us safely.”

“I shall also go,” commented Haytham, “though I would prefer to stay here.” Charles flushed at the obvious reason why when Haytham’s gaze settled on him.

“Connor and I will be safe enough here Haytham. I can protect him and will Ben Hornigold be here? Surely the information Ziio carries is of import?”

Haytham nodded, “Indeed it is. After questioning and essentially repeating the conversation we initially had on what could be causing these disturbances, Ziio revealed that her people have long guarded various devices that we know came the First Civilisation. Only one remains.”

“So what is it?”

Haytham paused, considering what he had been told. When he spoke, it was with care, “From what John and I could infer from the both of Ziio’s tales and what her people have experienced: visions, images of writings, ‘spirits’ etc., I believe the device they are currently guarding is something that grants the holder the options the future contains.”

Charles was wary, as was William for his friend leant forward, asking: “It doesn’t contain another Juno does it?”

“No, Ziio was adamant on that. The single time she was permitted to see the device and talked with the Shaman, the device is very different. The holder must think of a question about the future and ‘visions’ appear, almost spirit like in substance. Not just one, but three…four maybe more.”

“So,” said Charles, “the people shown in these can look like spirits, but aren’t? Almost like an oracle if it shows various paths.”

“I would concur,” said Haytham and John nodded too.

“Seems just as tricky to me,” commented Thomas, “as having a Juno in one of those darned devices.” 

“From what Ziio said the device is more accurate and is guided wholly by the person holding it. You also cannot control people like the Apple, so it most certainly isn’t one. Of course, whatever is happening now has caused the device to be ‘on’ the majority of the time. I’m not sure whether distance will switch it off and return it to normal.”

“We could at least contain it so it doesn’t leak?” offered Charles. “We have enough First Civilisation equipment we can try.”

“I think Charles has a point,” said William. “What Thomas and I discovered was that the Temple was flicking on and off, various objects in there were  glowing?, as if aware that a member of their race is walking the Earth again.”

“Yeah, it was strange,” Thomas stretched, “everything was glowing in the dark like one of those stickers you buy. Then it would go off and come back.”

“It worked on a cycle,” said William leafing through his notes. “It would alternate by switching on and then the glow fading, every two hours. I believe the Temple walls provide some protection from the wake-up Juno’s release has caused. We did remove containers from the site so Charles’ theory might be useful.”

“Are we interested in the device? What use is it to us?” asked Thomas.

“It could ultimately place us ahead of the Assassins,” Haytham responded, “while we cannot guarantee the future it shows is true, it might inform us on the activities of the Assassins – a very definite boon for us. Even if not, I would rather have it than the Assassins. It also increases our standing with the Native people, proving we care. We asked, the Assassins will not.”

Charles knew that was true, however, “Did Ziio agree to bring the device to us?”

“Yes, even if her people do not. Though it may take two days, so the day after next.”

That was worrying. “So we must ensure her safe passage in those circumstances.”

“Yes, as John said he will leave tomorrow to be waiting outside the Reservation to meet Ziio with a trusted team. I shall leave in to two days to meet half-way. I do not wish my movements to alert the Assassins.”

Charles sighed, “It’s a shame Church isn’t here.”

Haytham frowned and squeezed Charles’ hand, “He must finish his research into the latest Animus updates and the reactions of our guests to them in the machine. I also wish to ensure he is loyal as of late his thirst for money frustrates me.”

“Yes sir.” The sabbatical was meant to test Church, hopefully their comrade wouldn’t fail as Haytham didn’t take treachery well.

“One more thing before we conclude. Connor is aware of our true nature, well a basic version. He comprehends that we are Templar Knights fighting the Assassins for peace and order with the intention of protecting everyone, including his people.”

“How?” asked William.

John coughed and dipped his head at Charles.

Charles was deeply mortified. “It slipped out!”

“And no-one is blaming you,” soothed Haytham, yet with a stern warning to the others who subsided with any remonstration.

“So what do we do?” asked Thomas.

“An induction ceremony, so he can swear loyalty,” Haytham smiled, a little fondness leaking into his voice, “My son insisted on making a promise himself.”

“That’s sweet,” said William. “When shall we hold it?”

“Tomorrow,” suggested Charles, “today is already a bit overwhelming for him.”

“That will be quite a sight,” said John.

“Indeed,” agreed Haytham. “I’ll think of an easy oath for Connor to take.”

“How about clothing?”

“Pardon?” Charles blinked at John in confusion.

John sighed and explained slowly, “Children love dressing up, including boys. Put them in costume and they’ll love you forever. So, special ceremony equates to fancy clothes.”

“Oh.” Well that made sense didn’t it? Charles wondered what they could scavenge.

“Charles can you arrange appropriate clothing?” Haytham was looking at him.

“Of course sir…Haytham.”

“Excellent.” Haytham allowed a brief smile then turned serious again.

“Any more gentlemen?” Haytham looked at of them in turn.

“No? Good. William and Thomas, you are welcome to stay the night.”

Charles almost put his head in his hands. Oh what trouble would Thomas get Connor into?

“Awesome,” said Thomas.

“Thank you Haytham,” was William’s more sedate reply.

Smiling Haytham ended the meeting and they returned to Connor who was absorbed in Robin Hood fighting for the Golden Arrow.

= = =

The afternoon was marvellously free of incident. That is, until Connor paused mid-run around the fountain in a game of tag, causing Charles and Haytham almost to trip over him as they tried stopping in time.

“My bow!” he cried excitedly. Swivelling he bounced up and down, eyes bright. “I can be like Robin Hood!”

“Bow?” repeated Thomas, a grin snaking across his face the bastard. “I didn’t know ya had one Connor.”

“Uh huh!” Connor wrapped his arms around Charles’ leg and gazed beseechingly at him. “ _Please_. You said I could play if you’re here!”

Oh crap, apparently the lad knew who the weakest target was. Charles wanted to know when his resolve became as strong as melted chocolate because this was ludicrous. However, he _had_ promised, though surely only trouble could result with Thomas present.

“Well…I suppose you could at the fence. Haytham?”

Haytham inclined his head graciously, “Of course Charles. Yes Connor you can play with your bow and arrow. How about I fetch it and then you and I can show Charles?”

Oh thank goodness, he actually got a chance at resting.

“Okay!” Connor sat on the fountain brim and trailed the tips of fingers in the water. “Do spirits live here?” he asked quite seriously.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Charles said, sitting beside Connor. “Why?”

“Mummy says spirits are all around us, our family and nature and animals.” Dark brown eyes studied him, absolute faith in his mother’s teaching a steady flame never wavering.

Charles knew he had to answer carefully, he also wasn’t sure quite what to say. His own faith was yes, there is a god, but he didn’t follow a specific religion. He had witnessed too much not to have some belief in other forces. Haytham however, did not and so Charles dithered between what was right to say and not. He settled on a neutral response, tempered with his own belief. It was up to Haytham and Ziio what paths should be presented to their son to take.

“Your mother is a wise woman and knows more than I on the subject. But I don’t think there any spirits in our fountain, not enough nature. They probably prefer the forest and woods, or the sea.”

“The sea? There are spirits there too?”

Charles grinned, “You should hear Biddle talk about it.”

“Biddle?”

“Oh, Mr Biddle, another friend. You’ll meet him sometime.”

“Great.” Before Connor could continue his questioning Haytham reappeared with Connor’s bow and arrow set.

Charles shivered at the devious smirk on Thomas’s face and urging Connor to his father glared at Thomas, putting forth retribution if anything should happen. Thomas shrugged as he passed, “Not scared Charlie.”

“Don’t be, I’ll complain to Master Kenway and I believe he’ll side with me.”

Thomas went pale but recovered, “Master Kenway still huh? Must be real interesting when you’re in bed.”

“Jealous?” Then hurrying over to William who was sitting at the garden table Charles curtailed any further conversation. Thomas just shrugged again and joined Haytham and Connor at the opposite end of the garden. Thomas actually had minor experience with the bow unlike Haytham, Father of Understanding help them. 

 “This surely will end in mischief,” said John.

William folded his newspaper to watch the archery lesson with great attentiveness. “Hopefully not.”

Charles sighed as he nervously sipped cool water, “Haytham knows what he’s doing.”

John raised an eyebrow, “With a four year old? Ah, we’ll see if so Charles.”

“Now son,” Haytham’s voice carried, “Pick an arrow and stand beside me.”

Connor happily selected a little arrow with black-grey feathering at the top. Fitting to the bow he stuck his tongue out and aimed at the fence.

Connor let go and the arrow actually went a little way. Nowhere near the fence, but impressive for a four year boy. Pouting Connor spun around.

“Ah!” gasped Haytham, clutching his shin. Connor’s eyes were wide and Charles stood, but John touched his arm.

“Sorry father.”

“No…no problem son.” Haytham rubbed his shin and said as calmly as possible, “How about you try again?”

Connor nodded and grabbed another arrow. Haytham stopped rubbing his leg and stayed crouched. As Connor aimed his shot his elbow went into Haytham’s face.

Haytham remarkably didn’t say anything beyond a hiss. Connor was so contrite that his father simply smiled, refrained from touching his nose and stood. “One more time son eh?” Thomas was laughing and grinning as he took an arrow and clapping his hands chortled, “Aim higher lad and pull as far back as you can.”

Connor gulped and glanced at Charles who forced a pleasant confident grin on his face. It worked and Connor again plucked his bow.

“Fire!” shouted Thomas.

Haytham glared at Thomas even as Connor shot and began shrieking in joy, “Look father! It’s near the fence!” Dancing on the spot Connor flung his arms around his father with the bow still in his hands.

“Oh dear,” panted Haytham as he gripped his other shin and used his free arm to hold Connor still.

“Father?” A face full of woe checked his father out and Haytham, thankfully rallied like good fathers everywhere and murmured, “Nothing son. However, I feel we should learn safety rules before we proceed.”

“Okay.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “I’ll take over if ya like.”

Haytham actually agreed. Charles knew they were doomed. What sort of riot could Connor, trained by Thomas, run in their household? Thomas, as if he knew Charles’ nightmares, waved at that moment. Connor following Thomas’ actions, waved and shouted, “Mr Hickey is going to teach me how to shoot!”

“That’s fantastic. Be careful. And have fun!” Father of Understanding help him.

Waving, Connor turned to Thomas who selected an arrow and began speaking in earnest. Haytham limped over and eased beside Charles. Immediately Charles began fussing and the normally independent Grandmaster relaxed and permitted him. William rolled his eyes and continued pursuing his paper. John just snorted and watched with good humour.

The next quarter of an hour passed suspiciously calmly. Connor was carefully aligning his shots with Thomas’ guiding hands and occasionally hollering for Haytham and Charles to watch. It was unnatural and Charles was a nervous wreck, not even soothed by Haytham resting his arm on the back of his chair, a comfortable line of warmth along his shoulders.

The Grandmaster appeared mostly recovered from his injuries though he was going to bruise slightly around his nose. Who knew children could be so dangerous?

Just then their peace was shattered as Thomas began running around the garden with a terribly enthusiastic Connor in his wake. Together they were shouting ‘You’ll never get me!’ (Thomas) and ‘Yes I will!’ (Connor).

“Damn.”

“Peace Charles,” reassured Haytham, using the fingers of his right currently draped behind Charles, to stroke the side of his neck. “I’m sure Thomas will behave.”

Charles desperately wished he could convince Haytham that Thomas was dangerous, but alas no one believed him. John seemed more inclined to not trust him with his children, but neither did he deter Thomas from visiting (unless he was already drunk of course).

Thomas raced around the fountain then jumped on the bench, brandishing his arms with a leer. Connor stood and drew his bow, thankfully without an arrow braced, “Down or I’ll shoot!”

“Never!” yelped Thomas who leapt off and raced toward them.

Connor gave chase breathless, swinging his bow. Thomas circled the table and Charles tensed, especially as Connor followed and as Connor reached Thomas and again cried for him to stop, Thomas tripped backwards over William’s chair and brought William down on top of him.

Naturally Connor saw this as great fun and jumped on top of the tangled men.

He still had his bow and quiver on his back.

William actually managed not to curse, while Thomas only shouted in pain as small fingers accidently smacked him in the face.

“Father of Understanding!” Charles hurled himself at the mess and snatched Connor up who protested strongly, “But I had him!”

“Indeed you did Connor, but how about we put away the bow before anyone else is hurt?”

Connor pouted, bottom lip plump and face scrunched with disappointment. Charles remained firm. Haytham and John were assisting their friends.

Haytham raised an eyebrow, “That’s enough for one day. How about dinner?”

John warily pulled the bow from Connor who whined but desisted at Charles’ stern glance and he sighed as his quiver was retrieved also.

“Come now Connor,” soothed Charles, “a Knight has to keep his strength up and learn discipline. Remember? Anyway, guess what? You’ll have a promise ceremony tomorrow like your father said.”

Connor immediately brightened and twisting in Charles’ arms stared up at him, “Really? Awesome. What’s to eat?” 

Chuckling at Connor’s change of temper, Charles said, “Fish fingers, potato waffles and baked beans.”

“Ketchup?”

“Of course, not complete without ketchup!” Charles bounced Connor who shrieked in delight.

Gaining approval from Haytham with a silent inclination of his head, Charles took Connor inside to ‘help’ him cook.

= = =

It was with great relief that Charles put Connor to bed that night with his new wolf sheets. William and Thomas were sharing his old room, (at some point Charles would move his belongings into Haytham’s – their – room), and John was in one of their other guest bedrooms. Connor of course, was now housed in one of the guest rooms used by their friends when they stayed.

Tucking in a rather tired little boy, Charles brushed back black hair, smiling fondly at the sleepy eyes fixed on him.

“Thank you Mr Lee.”

“For what Connor?”

“For letting me call Mummy.”

It was sweet that Connor was thanking him for such an obvious act, really Haytham and he weren’t monsters, they wouldn’t deny a homesick boy from ringing his mother while away. “No need for thanks Connor. Are you happy now that you spoke to your mother?”

Connor nodded, “Yes, but I was happy before.”

Yup, that was his insides becoming mush.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying staying with us Connor.”

Connor snuggled his kitten, his wolf resting on the covers next to him. “I am. I wish you lived closer to me Mr Lee.”

Charles coughed, it was either that or allow tears to fall. Damnit!

“And your father?”

“Yes, is he coming?”

“I’m here son.”

Charles’ heart fluttered. How long had Haytham been there? Haytham came over and sat on Connor’s other side and bending kissed his son on the cheek. Only a touch of tension in the Grandmaster’s shoulder’s belied his discomfort of doing this. He was still adjusting to having Connor.

“Sleep well son.”

“You too father and Mr Lee.”

“Goodnight Connor. If you need anything come to us and knock or shout okay? Mr Pitcairn isn’t here as he’s gone to his family, however Mr Johnson and Hickey are here too if you require assistance okay?”

Connor just yawned, but seemed to understand mostly what he had said so Charles switched off the bedside lamp and kissing Connor on the cheek too rose and went to the door. “Okay?”

Connor whispered, already half asleep, “Yes.”

Not daring to speak again Charles ensured the door was ajar so the hallway light would show a bit and also so they could hear if needs be.

Haytham kissed him the moment he turned around and whispered against his lips, “I have a promise to keep for us Charles.”

Shuddering at the memory of that Charles swallowed and whispered back, “I’m ready **Sir**.”

Haytham without warning swept him up and eyes dark. “Oh I think I have to keep you in line Charles.”

“I always obey you Master Kenway.”

“Hmmmm, we shall see my Charles.”

His gust twisted at the possessive note and Charles felt a surge of excitement at what was ahead.

It was but a short ‘ride’ to their room and how Charles hoped to be riding something else very soon. Haytham succeeded in locking their door to prevent innocent eyes from being traumatised. 

Darkness descended, only broken by the lamp shining by their bed. Haytham gently placed Charles on the bed and Charles waited breathlessly to see what Haytham would say. Haytham’s gaze narrowed and his jaw tightened – in pleasure – as he realised that Charles was awaiting orders from him.

“Undress yourself Charles. Slowly.”

Charles swallowed the moan at the command and began undoing his cravat. It took all his willpower not to be hasty under the hot assessing stare from his – his! – Grandmaster.

As sensually as possible he slipped the cravat from his neck before moving to his shirt, one button at a time revealing his pale chest with a light smattering of hairs.

“Eyes on me Charles,” ordered Haytham coolly.

Charles met those wonderful eyes, usually devoid of excessive emotion unless under great strain and found them burning their way into his soul. Shrugging the material off his shoulders Charles watched as Haytham’s jaw clenched – he clearly was enjoying the show. Emboldened, Charles cast his shirt to one side and allowed his hands to fall to his belt. As slowly as he could manage, Charles unbuckled the metal and fed it through the hoops on his jeans, letting the leather slide through his hands.

Cradling the belt in his hands Charles took unusual care in wrapping it around his hand before dumping it on the floor beside his bed. Haytham smiled hungrily.

Charles struggled to keep his eyes locked on Haytham as he unzipped his jeans over his erection. Then, still attempting to maintain eye contact, Charles did his best to lean back on his elbows and raise his hips. With his right hand he tugged at his jeans to slide them off.

“Why don’t you stand?” Haytham’s voice was hoarse. A thrill went right through Charles. _He_ was causing that reaction!

“Because you haven’t ordered me to,” it was an honest answer tailored to underscore how Charles wanted to play at Master and faithful second-in-command and with hope drive Haytham mad.

The sharp intake of breath and the fiercely intense expression convinced Charles he had had the desired effect.

“Obedient as always Charles.”

“Would you like me to stand Sir?”

_“No.”_

Heart thumping, Charles continued pushing his jeans down.  Eventually with some judicious twisting (and jaw clenching from Haytham) he succeeded in pushing his jeans off his hips and over his bottom. It was simple then to pull his legs up and finish dragging them off. Chest moving more strenuously with the effort, Charles inched off his socks and nervously hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pants.

Haytham moved then, striding to Charles and placing a hot hand over one of his.

“Lie back,” voice low yet strong. Charles loved that, he adored it when Haytham had that ringing command quiet yet full of strength and undeniable power. He got off on it when they weren’t well, boyfriends. Now? It made him moan, unable to deny himself.

Haytham growled. “Now Charles.”

“Yes sir.”

Shivering Charles lay back, fearing he would have to break eye contact, but ah! Haytham was leaning over him and his closeness was intoxicating. As he struggled afresh with his underwear, each time he raised his body off the bed Haytham’s shirt and belt, hell trousers rubbed against his skin. It sent yearning lust through him and whimpering Charles was about to gasp he couldn’t do this and he was terribly sorry and frustrated about this, when Haytham knelt on the bed.

Astride of Charles he stopped his actions with one hand and instead, with ease and the arrogance Charles loved, pulled his pants down. The smile that formed was teasing but also promising.

Recalling last night Charles adhered silent commands and lifted his hips and legs at the right moments. Haytham showed his delight once he had discarded Charles pant on the floor. They would certainly have a mess to sort in the morning. He trailed his hands up Charles’ legs past Charles’ aching groin and resting his right hand on his belly.

With each breath Charles could feel the pleasant weight of Haytham’s hand, calloused from training. It was hot and delicious and he moaned as his cock twitched. Haytham smiled, licking his lips.

“Undress me Charles.”

Charles inhaled and held his breath. Was Haytham joking? No, for he got off the bed and stood with a smirk and a raised eyebrow as if questioning whether Charles would follow his direction or not. Indignant and rising to the challenge, as was his dick, Charles crawled off the body aware of how his cock bobbed as he walked to Haytham. Halting Charles fixed his gaze on the pulse beating at the base of Haytham’s throat only raising his eyes when Haytham coughed politely. “Sorry Master Kenway.”

Haytham sighed, “Apology accepted Charles. Do continue.”

Hardly believing he was at last being granted what he had desired since he first set eyes on Master Kenway, Charles touched Haytham’s shirt, loving the feel of silk under his fingertips. With precision Charles unbuttoned it, licking dry lips as he saw Haytham’s chest revealed to him. Oh he had seen Haytham without a shirt, but not in such an intimate manner.

Fine hairs, dark like the hair on his head, adorned Haytham’s chest. Charles wished to touch that magnificent assortment and ensured his fingers brushed them as he reverently pulled the shirt open and sensually pulled it off Haytham’s shoulders and down long slim, muscled arms. Curling and rough, it was a terrific sensation Charles committed to memory and further exploration when Haytham permitted.

Ah, the bracer.

“Sir?”

Haytham raised a hand and gently stroked Charles’ cheek. Charles leaned into it. “Be careful Charles.”

Happy at the implicit concession with the loving warning, Charles undid the straps on Haytham’s hidden blade and with supreme wariness removed it. Haytham took it and briefly left to place it on his desk.

“Connor sir?”

Haytham laughed, “Good man Charles.” He picked his bracer up and stashed it in the cupboard. Striding back he hissed, “Trousers and hurry.”

Fuck yes. With due haste, Charles unbuckled the belt and threw it away. Trembling at the sight, for the bulge was impressive; Charles unzipped and fell to his knees as he peeled back the Grandmaster’s trousers. Unable to resist Charles forwent the socks and moved back to the pants. Haytham’s cock bounced free and Charles couldn’t help but gasp in joy. His breath curled over Haytham’s flesh and a sudden snarl was Charles’ only warning ere he was being dragged to his feet and kissed brutally.

Haytham covered his lips, hand cupping his jaw, forcing his mouth open. Charles moaned into Haytham’s mouth as he felt Haytham invade with his tongue. Haytham moaned in return as he plundered Charles. Then Haytham was kissing his throat and nibbling at his sensitive skin, biting his way up and down both sides, ere nipping at the base of his throat.

Dazed at the onslaught Charles wasn’t sure how to respond until Haytham drew a deep breath and regaining control whispered harshly, “On the bed Charles. I’ll ask only once, knees or back?”

Charles knew without hesitation what he wanted, what he had dreamt of. Yes, he wanted Haytham to take him on his knees, but for their first time he was desperate to see Haytham’s face, to know this was real and not a fevered dream.

“Back, Sir.”

“Excellent.” And ah, it was beyond nice to know that Haytham desired the same thing as well.

Haytham inclined his head to the bed, “Wait for me.”

Trembling, Charles clambered on and watched as Haytham retrieved condom and lube from his jacket that he had left on the chair yesterday.

Haytham strode quickly to the bed and climbing on placed the condom to one side. “Open your legs Charles.”

Breathing heavily Charles did so and swallowed dry damanations, as Haytham crawled in-between. Haytham uncapped the lube and squirting the liquid on his fingers he rubbed them together to warm the liquid. His voice was seductive, like honey, when he spoke.

“No noises Charles that is an order.”

“I don’t think I can Sir.”

Haytham laid his clean hand on the inside of Charles leg, squeezing. “I have faith in you Charles. Now, you shan’t hurt yourself? Would you prefer something between your teeth?”

“Yes Sir.”

Haytham sighed, “A shame to silence you since you say ‘Sir’ so prettily. However, I will not have you harmed.” Haytham again disappeared and Charles focused on not touching his dick because how he wished to.

Haytham was there, leaning over him and Charles hissed as Haytham’s cock trailed over the inside of his leg and pressed against his erection.

_Heat, solid pressure and wetness from leaking tips._ Charles shut his eyes and tried not to come. He hadn’t for so long he feared he wouldn’t be able to. Silk was pushed between his teeth and opening his eyes Charles realised that Haytham had chosen one of the few cravats Haytham personally owned (being more of a tie man).

It was a startling pale blue, almost like his eyes. Haytham seemed to think so for he trailed his fingers over the material before raising his hand to Charles eyes. Shutting them Charles felt Haytham trace over his eyelids with a feather touch. Shivering at the sensation Charles was relieved and disappointed when Haytham returned to focusing on reapplying the lube.

“Relax Charles,” was his only warning ere Haytham was lifting his right leg slightly and slipping in the cleft of his behind, feeling his way to his hole. It was ticklish and Charles gasped around his mouthful. Remembering the order for silence Charles instantly bit down on the silk and opened his eyes a slit, hardly daring to watch. Haytham had an expression of concentration mingled with the dark hunger lurking.

Charles involuntarily raised his hips higher when Haytham dipped one finger past his ring of muscle. It was strange, not painful more pressure than anything else. Haytham sighed and pushed in more so that his entire finger to the knuckle sank in.

Now that was a shock, his body clenched on the invader and Charles wriggled at the feeling of his insides fighting Haytham, especially when Haytham flexed his finger and began pushing at his walls. It was achy but in a good way.

Dipping his head back onto the pillow Charles forced himself to breathe steadily. It was hard maintaining silence. And…oh shit. He almost choked when Haytham’s lips brushed the scarring on the inside of his left leg. It was wonderful.

Charles hadn’t realised how sensitive he was there. Trembling Charles pushed up on his elbows to witness Haytham mouthing at the patchwork of scars left from a bullet wound when an assassin had come too close. Lovingly Haytham basted the area with his saliva, tongue tracing the pathways the scars etched and then suckling on the flesh. Body shaking with the effort not to speak or moan Charles was sure his throat would convulse if he tried to be quiet for longer.

Haytham took advantage of his distraction to slide two fingers into Charles, twisting and pushing to widen his passage. It was murder, as Haytham mouthed at his scar he also found that sweet spot that sent fireworks through his body. Charles fisted the bed covers and chewed the cravat.

Hot lips gliding over his flesh, blowing hot air on his straining manhood and oh that voice, husky with want and authority, “You may show your pleasure Charles but quietly.”

Relief, pure and clear. Removing the gag straight away Charles moaned lowly, eyes barely able to stay open. Haytham just nodded at him, focused on his task of undoing Charles. The intensity was the same as when Haytham operated on a mission and having that devoted entirely on him was exquisite and Charles felt rather smug.

Haytham pressed against his prostate again and Charles whined. Haytham bit gently over his scarred flesh and Charles discovered a new kink. Pushing his leg closer to Haytham’s mouth he heard the low chuckle and determined to not give leeway, Charles moaned, “Master Kenway, please sir.”

A hiss and immediately three fingers clumsily being pushed into him were his satisfactory response. Charles flung his head back again, arching up and relishing as Haytham suckled at his wound and twisted fiercely inside him. He clenched hard, aching for something else entirely.

Sensing his want, Haytham withdrew leaving Charles open and bereft. He heard the rustle of the condom packet and Haytham’s barely controlled moan as he slid it over his manhood. Swiftly however, Haytham was leaning heavily over him, naked flesh on his and it was searing heat and pleasure pooling in his groin, tingling all over his skin. Long fine fingers caught his chin and obeying Charles met Haytham’s gaze.

Love and yearning were there and the same hunger, stronger than moments ago.  “Ready Charles?”

“Yes sir.”

Kissing him Haytham reached down and lifted Charles right leg over his shoulder. Bent like that Charles whimpered and found a pillow adjusted under him for some support. Haytham’s belly pressed on his dick and Charles surged up with a broken groan.

Laughter in his ear and wet kiss to the ridge, ere pain burst as Haytham eased in perhaps faster than he should. However, it was temporary as gasping through the initial entry Charles was distracted by kisses over his cheeks, forehead and moustache.

Blinking eyes open, Charles reached up and draped his left arm over Haytham’s shoulder and clumsily kissed his lover’s throat as Haytham nibbled at his other ear. A light scar ran along Haytham’s collarbone and just about able to twist to it Charles licked at the white line.

Haytham sighed and pulled out. Charles whimpered at the slight burn and panted out ‘Sir!’ in happiness when Haytham thrust back in. From then on Haytham set a ferocious pace, snapping in and out so that Charles was tortured by the slick slide of Haytham’s belly over his straining leaking erection and the beautiful fullness and stretch as Haytham pried him open with each meeting of their hips.

 Charles dug his nails into Haytham’s shoulder and latched onto that wonderful collarbone, nuzzling at the scar as Haytham pushed him up the bed. Hooking his left leg over Haytham’s back, Charles clung on and by the appreciative hum Haytham approved.

Haytham was relentless, biting and kissing his throat and each time Charles whimpered too _much_ he would slacken his pace and murmur, “You will tell me if it hurts Charles. That is my direct order.”

“Yes Haytham…sir.”

Haytham simply returned his fast pace and shortly Charles could feel his belly clench and his dick was painful from how full and heavy he felt. Haytham’s kisses were all too much and caught like a moth in amber Charles cried out as his orgasm flew through his body. “Master Kenway.”

Shattered Charles was aware of Haytham groaning as his muscles bore down on his manhood and stilling, Haytham shuddered as he too orgasmed.

For a few seconds they lay chest heaving then Haytham gently slid out and lowered his leg. Charles watched Haytham through slit eyes, exhausted. Haytham pulled off the used condom and standing shakily got rid of it. He returned with a wet cloth and wiped Charles clean, kissing the inside his leg, petting the wound and then kissing Charles softly and lovingly on the lips.

Haytham’s expression was so sweet that Charles was stunned. He hadn’t seen such a tender emotion from the other man, from the normally stoic Grandmaster, who displayed feelings only to a certain extent even between them.

Wondrous and hopeful, Charles touched Haytham’s cheek and Haytham kissed him, chasing away his fears. “I love Charles. Thank you for this.”

His heart fluttered and Charles kissed back. “I love you Haytham. Always.”

Smiling, vulnerable in this light, Haytham finished cleaning him.

Charles shifted on to his side and blinked tiredly as he remembered something, “The door? Connor won’t be able to get in otherwise.”

“Ah, good call Charles.” Haytham undid the lock and returned, climbing under the covers. Murmuring, Haytham scooted to him, engulfing him in arms toned by battle, “We’ll wash later, before we’re disturbed.”

Nodding in agreement, Charles nestled back and relaxed, knowing he had what he had always desired, Haytham’s respect, admiration and now, _love_.

                                                            = = =

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Connor is inducted into the Order and life heats up. Will the Assassin’s reach Ziio first? Or will they strike Charles and Connor while Haytham is away?


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is ‘inducted’ into the Templar Order, much to Haytham’s pride and Charles' delight. The day after Connor’s initiation ceremony Haytham departs on his part of the mission to escort Ziio safely to Abstergo which leaves Charles and Connor alone, only protected by Hornigold. This might be to Haytham’s eternal regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must give my thanks to my lovely beta, rae_fa, who has been an immense help in ensuring that Connor sounds like a four year old. 
> 
> 1.) An idea of what Charles was wearing- 
> 
> jacket: http://www.tedbaker.com/uk/Mens/Clothing/Suits/FOXDALJ-Wool-suit-jacket-Blue/p/112145-14-BLUE
> 
> shirt (same colour as jacket): http://www.hitched.co.uk/mens-wedding-suits/marc-wallace/electric-blue-suit-shirt-tie/

The next day dawned early for Charles and Haytham as they had to rush to wash and dress before Connor appeared. Charles was just tugging on his black trousers when Connor ran into their room crying good morning and demanding attention.

Catching the boy in his arms Charles smiled at how much happier Connor was today compared to yesterday.

He kissed Connor on the forehead, who squealed and kissed him sloppily back on the cheek. Charles was sure his heart was going to burst.

“Good morning Connor, did you sleep well?”

Connor beamed, brown eyes shining. “Yes! And so did Miss Kitty and Mr Wolf.” He pushed both his toys at Charles, “Kiss them too.”

“Indeed, I suppose it would be rude to leave them out.” Kissing two furry heads Charles grinned at Connor’s delight.

Connor settled on his lap, playing with his white shirt. “I’m going to become a Knight today right?”

Charles nodded seriously and brushed back some hair, noting he had to comb it. “Yes, but we must prepare. First we have to buy clothes so you can look like a Knight.”

“Armour?” enthused Connor.

Charles shook his head, voice solemn. “No, after all we are no longer in the time of Robin Hood.” Connor pouted in disappointment, Charles wanted to laugh but knew better than to, so he continued, “However, we do have formal clothes we must wear that symbolise-“

“Sym..bol..ise?” tried Connor frowning.

“That means Connor that we are Templar Knights.”

“Uh huh,” Connor put Mr Wolf into Charles’ right hand and used Miss Kitty to bump noses with the wolf. When Charles didn’t respond Connor huffed as if he was truly stupid and with his small hand guided Charles in bumping noses with his kitten. Charles chuckled. He felt sorry for Connor being surrounded by a bewildered Father and boyfriend who were frantically grasping at the concepts of parenting a child.

_You’re going to have much fun in guiding us Connor. I just hope you don’t realise how much power you have._

Rubbing Mr Wolf against Miss Kitty Charles had a sudden fear seize him. _I pray we don’t mess you up Connor._

A happy face stared up at him and Charles struggled with the enormous fear that the responsibility for raising and protecting Connor brought. He loved the little rascal and Charles knew in that moment he would fiercely defend Connor with the last breath in his body if needed.

Overwhelmed Charles cuddled Connor close to try and ease the dark shadows of the future. The future wasn’t written after all, but Charles couldn’t escape the surge of responsibility and love welling within. He couldn’t abandon or ignore those emotions and they would be with him forever.

“Mr Lee?” protested Connor who wriggled in his iron grip, “What’s wrong?”

Charles blinked back tears and swallowing, Charles kissed Connor on the cheek, speaking tightly, “Nothing Connor, just wanted to hug you. I do love you and that’s what people do when they love each other.”

“Oh,” Connor considered this and grinned. He twisted and managed to put his arms around Charles’ neck and hugged with all his might, his kitten and wolf trapped between them. Charles swore privately and hugged the adorable four-year-old again. He loved Connor as much as he did Haytham and that was shocking, terrifying and liberating all at once.

“Am I missing something?” Startled, Charles glanced up at saw Haytham standing beside them fresh from the bathroom, pristine black trousers with a brown leather belt with real silver Templar crosses circling and a silver buckle engraved with the same Temple of Solomon as Charles’ belt.

A stone-grey shirt was buttoned with gold cuffs, again as Templar crosses. Haytham’s outfit was incomplete yet the authority that imbued him to his soul fell from him like the cascade of a waterfall; utterly breath-taking and in Charles’ opinion Haytham’s visage made weak willed people powerless in his wake.

Tongue-tied Charles was unable to answer before Connor said, “We’re hugging Father because we love each other.”

Haytham’s cool facade actually crumbled at his son’s words and he stared at Connor intensely, “Please could you explain that son?”

Connor rolled his eyes clearly thinking his Father was silly. Charles was half-alarmed, half-amused.

“Mr Lee said that when people love each other they hug.”

“And you love Mr Lee?” Haytham’s expression was curious and intrigued. Charles was nervous, he was sure Haytham wanted Connor to love him, but would he think it too fast?

Connor sighed in exasperation as if he couldn’t believe how stupid his Father was, “ _Yes_ Father.” Turning Connor again hugged Charles clumsily around the neck, but then quickly looked at Haytham. “I love you too,” he said quickly and releasing a stunned Charles squirmed off, running to hug his Father around his knees.

Haytham petted his son on the shoulder, grey eyes contemplative at his son’s declaration. Glancing at Charles his expression softened and just briefly, like a candle spluttering in a gout of wind, murmured gently yet undeniably, “That’s good son, I’m glad you love Mr Lee.”

Charles was going to cry he knew it, damnations! Gasping a little Charles focused on breathing as Haytham addressed Connor, “I love you too of course son.” Then just like a candle the flame was extinguished and the softness drained from Haytham replaced by his usual serene deportment.

“Now son, why don’t you return to Charles? We have a busy day ahead. We must initiate you before Mr Pitcairn leaves.”

Connor stopped hugging his Father and ran back to Charles scrambling onto the bed next to him. Charles handed over his kitten and wolf. Connor however tugged at Charles’ shirt. “Why is Mr Pitcairn leaving?”

“He’s being sent on a Knight’s mission, but shush, don’t tell anyone that!” Charles teased trying to lessen his saddens at the loss of Haytham’s open affections.

Connor clapped his hands in excitement but nodded frantically, face serious, dark brown eyes the picture of earnestness. “I won’t tell anyone! Not even Mr Pitcairn!”

Charles laughed, “Good, now Connor how about we eat, dress and fetch your clothing?”

“Yes!” shrieked Connor, ecstatic at another reminder that he was to be inducted into the Templar Order shortly.

Shaking his head Charles found himself badgered by an exuberant four-year-old while Haytham watched them with calmness, not even smiling at his son’s antics. Charles tried not to let his lover’s abrupt stoicism affect him, he understood Haytham wasn’t renegading on the progress of yesterday, rather he was gathering himself for the upcoming initiation ceremony. Haytham took the Templar Order seriously, believing profoundly in its tenants and purpose so even for his four-year-old boy he would grant it the same solemnity that an ordinary initiation would be bestowed.

= = =

“Look Mr Lee!” Charles winced at Connor’s shriek, but managed to maintain a hold on Connor’s hand before he ran off.

The other two occupants of the shop turned to stare and Charles did his best to soothe unsettled waters. “Pray forgive us, he is just a little excited.”

The lady smiled, “That’s alright. We were all like that once Mr Lee.”

For a second Charles almost had a heart-attack then Ben Hornigold was stepping past greeting the woman.

“Hallo Elise. Shopping for the latest jacket?”

_Elise de la Serre._

Yes, Charles now recalled the name. She was a recent transfer from their French office. Elise was here to advise on the possibility that the French cell of Assassins had sent some information to their American brothers. Charles however hadn’t dealt with her case as he had been immersed in the recent Abstergo trials for the release of a game set during the French-Indian War, a topic (well an era), he specialised in.

“Nice to meet you Miss de la Serre,” Charles now addressed her properly then glanced down at Connor with a raised eyebrow. Connor bit his bottom lip then blew out. “Oh, nice to meet you Miss…” Connor’s face scrunched up at the unfamiliar turn of pronunciation.

Miss de la Serre just laughed her eyes bright and friendly. “That’s fine little one. It’s a hard name to say. Nice to meet you and you as well, Mr Lee.”

Charles nodded and eager to hurry on moved past, drawing Connor deeper into the shop where a seamstress was stationed. The shop was a favourite of the Templar employees of Boston Abstergo being guarded by Templar guards, with all personnel vetted for any potential associations with the Assassins. All employees were also watched constantly.

However, the shop was more for adults and Charles belatedly realised how difficult this made it for Templar families. He wondered why John had never said anything, he would have to inquire. Still, coming here was safer than wandering around a children’s clothing department with the Second-in-Command of the Templar Order well known to any Assassin.

Connor tugged again and as they walked past Miss de la Serre, Charles ensured he said, “I hope your stay on our shores is a happy productive one Miss de la Serre. I also trust your silence is just as remarkable.”

Miss de la Serre nodded and left quietly. The other man who Charles knew, simply focused on his choice and Charles allowed Connor to lead him over to a hat section. Various hats of myriad hues were perched on shelves and stands: some old fashioned such as tricornes, forty and fifty styles and ones with a modern take.

Connor eagerly reached for a dark blue tricorn failing to reach. He sent a look of supplication at Charles who knew he was doomed. “Very well Connor, but I’m not sure it will fit.”

Lifting down the hat selected by Connor, Charles admired the gold glint and neat stitching. It was very handsome and elegant. Thrilled, Connor put it on and cried out as it slid over his eyes. Laughing at how cute Connor appeared Charles pushed it back a little and said, “Do you like it?”

“Yes!”

“Splendid, first let me take a photo.” Charles snapped a picture for his own personal record, Connor was too sweet in that hat not too and he was sure Haytham would agree, as would Ziio as Charles was determined to maintain good communications with her. Finished Connor sadly handed it over, so Charles said encouragingly, “Let us try and find one that fits.”

Ushering Connor into the back room Charles found the seamstress Ellen. She was a lovely woman, kind and generous, always helpful and skilled in her craft.

“Good morning Ellen!”

Ellen smiled, putting aside a pair of trousers she was hemming, “Good morning Mr Lee, how can I assist you?”

Connor pressed close staring wide-eyed at Ellen. Charles placed a hand on Connor’s head. “I require a smart suit for Connor. I understand you do not stock children’s garments but was hoping you could have some brought in. Unfortunately I require them within the next hour.” Charles smiled apologetically.

Ellen however wasn’t fazed. “That shan’t be an issue Mr Lee. We do keep some children’s clothes for Abstergo employees, not many but some. It’s easier.”

Charles thanked his lucky stars but still resolved to ensure that a children’s branch was opened officially.

“Thank you Ellen, I would appreciate as ever your discretion in this task.”

“Of course Mr Lee.” Ellen looked at Connor and picked up her measuring tape. “Now, what are we looking for exactly?”

Charles began to explain, aware of Connor adding comments as he grew bolder in Ellen’s presence and Ben drifting around in the background a silent sentinel for them.

= = =

The clock was striking ten by the time Charles and Connor returned, his ceremonious clothes safely stashed under Charles arm. Connor eagerly ran into the house calling for his Father while Ben joined another guard outside to maintain vigil over the house.

“Father! We have my clothes! I can be a Knight now!”

Charles chuckled as he caught Connor up in the living room where the sofas and chairs had been pushed back and a cloth thrown over the television. John was still present, only the flicker in his eyes indicating his anxiety to depart on his mission.

Thomas was groomed, hair clean and clothes fresh. He wore a stone grey suit with a cream shirt and black tie with a silver Templar pin. William was beside him also highly polished: both their shoes gleamed and William was clad in a black suit with a blanket from one of his Native friends arranged over his shoulders the colours bright and cheerful upon his sombre outfit.

John had added his beautiful antique pistols to his costume, but paired with the latest of the range just poking out from his gun belt. The weapons belt would be concealed when he left, but Charles appreciated the effort taken for Connor’s ‘Promise Initiation’.

Haytham entered the room and Charles near stopped breathing. Added to the black trousers, leather belt and stone-grey shirt, Haytham had donned a rich navy blue waistcoat with gold thread peeking through his black jacket which was open at the wrists so that the Templar crosses that were the gold cuffs were visible. His tie was black with a gold pin in the shape of Abstergo and upon his finger the ring of their Order seemed to stand out even more, the red cross snaring the eye. A red ribbon pulled his hair back sleekly and his face was composed in the onslaught of his son’s fervour. A sword was buckled at his waist, ancient and heavy. The pommel was polished, overlaid with darkened silver; the handle ended in a circle with a crimson Templar Cross – neat gold edging depicted the Grandmaster of their Order.

A dagger complemented his sword on the left hip, the pommel with gold leaf engraved into it and a Templar Cross. Haytham’s bracer was visible and Charles was reeling. How couldn’t he? The sheer majesty of the man came through in this perfectly crafted costume. Haytham Kenway embodied in the very symbolism dripping from him and the manner in which he wore his status of office, the purpose and direction of their Order. Charles found it hard to believe Haytham was a mere man and not a god or angel.

He just about heard Connor speaking excitedly to his Father as he gazed stupefied at Haytham. Aware his adoration for the Grandmaster was incredibly evident Charles flushed and attempted to pull away from the man he near worshipped. Thomas was amused, but by William’s hand on Thomas’ knee Charles inferred that he was being prevented from commenting on his spectacle.

Grateful and glancing at William in thanks Charles managed to muster his dispersed senses and gathered Connor up in his arms which took a smidgeon of juggling with his parcel. Haytham simply inclined his head, voice the epitome of a British gentleman, “Attire yourself and Connor as quickly as possible Charles. I have laid your garments out. Please ensure all hair is tied back.”

Charles mutely nodded and dashed past Haytham whose eyes seemed like brands on him, searing his soul with approval.

He banked towards Haytham’s – and his – bedroom where Connor climbed onto the bed once set down. He watched Charles trembling with impatience and exuberance.

“Okay Connor, I shall dress you first then you can assist me, how about that?”

“Yes!” shrieked Connor. Charles reflected he was going to have train Connor to calm down otherwise he would be constantly wincing.

“Superb, however remember, good Knights control their shouts in certain situations.”

Connor frowned. Charles smiled and rubbed Connor’s head, “Never mind, I shall teach you when. Up you get! And let’s untie our bundle.”

The next quarter of an hour was extremely frenetic with Charles having to entertain Connor while laying out their garments followed by the crowded space while they dressed. Brushing the longish ebony coloured hair into a ponytail tied with a rich royal blue ribbon at the end to prevent dislodging of unruly hair Charles had flutters in his stomach.

Connor looked so cute in his costume yet also a miniature version of his Father for Charles was strongly reminded of some resemblance to Haytham whenever he saw Connor, particularly now. Carefully arranging the dangling silk Charles was amused when Connor ran to the mirror and demanded to be lifted so he could look. Charles obliged.

“I look like Father!” exclaimed Connor, “A real Knight!” Then he stared at Charles and bit his lip.

“Don’t do that Connor, you’ll hurt yourself,” chided Charles. “Whatever is the matter?”

“But I don’t look like you,” whined Connor, truly distressed. Charles hugged Connor so the wave of ‘he really does love me’ wasn’t wholly evident. Must both Kenway men ruin him eternally?

“Yes you do. Our symbols are the same and our hair is tied back just like your Father’s. Well, mine will be.” Throwing Connor up with a yelp of joy Charles grinned. “Shall we?”

Connor nodded, but wasn’t satisfied until Charles’ hair was combed into a neat ponytail with a gold ribbon. At last ready Charles led Connor back to the living room where curtains and blinds had been closed and the room cast into darkness lit only by candles. A pretty mythic feel very much welcomed by a four-year-old who stared with wide eyes.

Charles sought Haytham to see awe and when Haytham allowed his gaze to wander over Charles, it was with precision laced with desire.

He was clad as Haytham had directed: a subtle blue suit with an almost electric blue shirt. Charles wore his leather belt from earlier with the silver buckle depicting the Temple of Solomon. However, his outfit then differed from Haytham’s. His jacket sleeves revealed his bright blue shirt where silver Abstergo cuffs held the material. His waistcoat was the same hue as his jacket and trousers with purple thread sketching through it granting it a rich ambience. His shirt was finished with a red cravat, startling against all the blue and clasped with a circular gold pin set with a gold Templar Cross.

His handkerchief was purple and on the breast was a silver Templar Cross. Charles wore a scabbard like Haytham’s, but the pommel was polished gold overlay which showed through black cloth wrapped around the hilt in a wavy pattern, while his dagger handle was engraved with silver that Charles now realised was the deliberate counterpart to Haytham’s. Fine gloves stopped at his wrist so as not to cover his cuffs with small red Templar crosses on the edge sensuously cradled his hands, and on the back a larger gold-scarlet cross signifying the Second-in-Command of the Colonial Rite.

Dizzy and delightfully happy he had pleased Haytham with his appearance, Charles watched as Haytham smiled at his son, another crack in his cold exterior. Connor was clad in navy blue trousers, cream shirt and navy jacket. There hadn’t been time to make cuffs suitable for Connor so Charles had loaned a broach which he pinned to Connor’s jacket that was an Abstergo symbol. His cravat was red at Connor’s insistence and had a silver Templar cross pinned to it. On his head was now perched his tricorn hat with gold glint. Haytham obviously was pleased and gestured for Charles to stand with Connor in the centre of the room.

His brothers formed a circle with Haytham opposite Connor and him.

A smooth little hand slipped into his and Charles blinked and glanced down at Connor who stared up at him anxiously. Smiling gently to assuage Connor’s nerves Charles whispered, “I’m nervous too.”

Connor grinned.

“Connor, look at me,” Haytham’s voice was low and commanding.

Connor tore his gaze from Charles and met his Father’s eyes with shoulders thrown back and firm chin. Charles held the sweaty palm tighter, but said nothing.

“Now son, you must answer ‘I do’ to each question, but only if you understand what I am saying. If you do not, you must ask me or Charles. Once the ritual is complete you shall be a Templar Knight.”

Haytham’s grey eyes were hard, but he did allow a brief nod to soften his decree. “Do you understand?”

Connor gulped, “Yes Father.”

“Very well, we shall begin.”

Haytham began to speak clearly and slowly to permit Connor every opportunity to understand what he was saying.

“Do you promise to obey the rules of a Knight Templar, protecting others and making sure order is followed?”

Connor cocked his head, face serious as he thought over his Father’s words, eventually he said without a single doubt, “I do.”

“Do you promise not to tell anyone our secrets or what we are doing?”

“I do,” this time there was no pause.

“And do you promise to do all this forever?”

Connor’s eyes widened at ‘forever’ but he nodded earnestly forgetting to reply until Charles squeezed his hand, “I do!”

John grinned at Connor’s enthusiasm while Haytham remained stoic.

“Then Connor Kenway I accept you into our Order and together we will work for peace. Give me your hand.”

Connor held out his left as he was still holding Charles’ hand with his right. Haytham took his son’s hand and pulled from inside his jacket a pure white cloth on which a red Templar Cross had been sewn. There wouldn’t have been time to forge such a small ring for Connor and it would be obvious unless they kept it secret when he was only here. The cloth would pass as a gift from a Father to a son without too much suspicion from Ziio.

Wrapping the narrow band of silk around Connor’s wrist and hand Haytham actually smiled, eyes bright and proud, “You are now a Templar Knight.”

Connor tugged his hand free and examined the silk with great delight, body trembling with joy. Looking up at Charles he cried out, “I’m a Knight! I can save people like you and Father! And protect Mother!”

Charles laughed, the sombre silence shattered. “Indeed Connor you are and can. Welcome. Welcome fellow Knight and Templar.”

Connor pulled free and held his arms out. Amused, Charles lifted him to have Connor furiously hugging him and with arms tight around his neck, from the feel of it, stroking the banner. John stepped forward, petting Connor on the shoulder, “Welcome brother, you’ll make a fine Templar.”

William also stepped up and spoke in Connor’s tongue, translating afterwards to the confused adults, “Welcome warrior, may your courage never fail you.”

Thomas smirked and saluted Connor, “Great to have ya little brother! Now let’s eat.”

Haytham sighed but agreed, “Open the blinds John then rest and have a quick bite before you leave.”

“Yes sir.”

“William, can you tidy the candles and Thomas fetch the food.”

The two men went about their orders while Haytham now stood beside Charles and Connor and with a suddenly shockingly bright smile enveloped them both in his arms. Startled, Charles held still barely able to believe Haytham would be so demonstrative. Then as reality sank in Charles leaned in as Haytham squeezed harder to hear Connor complain, “Too tight Father! Let Mr Lee and me go.”

Haytham simply chuckled, in too good a humour to be irate at his son, his breath across Charles’ skin causing him to shudder. “I’m proud of you son. Welcome. You’re a Knight like Charles and myself and I know you shall be an excellent one Connor.”

Connor nodded, “I promise Father. Are you stopping now?”

Charles was scandalised, “Connor!” Haytham though snorted. “I admire your spirit Connor. Very well, I’ll leave Charles to you.”

Releasing them Haytham was no longer stern or stiff, body relaxed. “Come and sit down, we have quite a feast.”

Charles could feel the warmth in his cheeks and Connor wriggling a bit. Walking to the couches that were now back in their proper positions Charles had a lapful of Connor who held up his banner to Charles for examination and an intense chatter. The silk emblem of their Order and his status were typically swiftly forgotten when Connor saw the plates of cakes, biscuits and crisps. Charles carefully wound the banner up and managed to put it into an inside pocket.

As Connor received a plate loaded with sugar Charles mourned a quiet afternoon lost to a hyper child. Haytham sat next to them and draped a possessive arm over Charles’ shoulders and smiled smugly at Connor. Charles stole a look at Haytham relishing the heavy weight over his shoulders to find the Grandmaster staring back at him. Haytham didn’t break his contented smile, but leant down and murmured quietly into his ear while Connor was distracted by Thomas singing “Happy Knighthood Day” to a warbling tune.

“I cannot tell you my dear Charles how proud of both of you I am, for you are both mine and members of the Order.” Charles had to pull his willpower to him like a tugging a dog back into order with a lead to prevent any trembling or emotion that would give him away to Connor. Yet it was dreadfully difficult for the words reached to his very core. His lover did not press the issue simply rushed the fingers of his left hand, the one over his shoulder, up and down Charles’ arm. Charles in desperation turned his head so his pale blue eyes were to Haytham, beseeching and passionate at turns.

He knew that Haytham was affected when gazed at like that so Charles used it shamelessly to extricate himself from the situation – admittedly briefly anyway.

Haytham paused, derailed and his smugness vanished as desire bloomed in his face and his hand gripped Charles’ shoulder. Then he breathed deeply and said, “Later Charles. Now eat. Yes son?”

For Connor had faced them now with a frown. “Are you okay Mr Lee?”

Charles nodded only slightly shaken, “Oh yes Connor. Your Father and I were just talking about tonight.”

“Uh huh,” clearly bored Connor asked if he could have more.

= = =

The period after the ceremony was a mix of active and quiet moments that Charles would forever recall with great fondness. He remembered most John departing on his mission and the solemn farewell Connor delivered that was equally amusing and cute and how afterwards Haytham had actually spent a good amount of time bonding with his son.

He had sat next to Connor with Charles on the other side and had partaken in a drawing session punctured with questions and then a play session where Connor had to ‘rescue’ Charles from Haytham. Charles wanted to argue he perfectly capable of protecting himself, but seeing how excited and _proud_ Connor was to be his defender had let it slide.

It was good training though after the third time Haytham decided to try and teach Connor fencing, Charles had unceremoniously grabbed Connor and with a cool glare at Haytham carried him off to Connor’s bedroom where he changed Connor into comfortable bottoms and t-shirt.

Haytham had chased him to the room and after an initially tense standoff had relented and promised Charles he wouldn’t begin training Connor until he was six.

Charles knew when to accept a win and had acquiesced to his lover. It had been Charles’ most favourite point of the whole day bar the initiation and the morning, for it showed that the Grandmaster truly took Charles’ role in raising his son as valid, important and integral.

So all in all a wonderful afternoon and evening.

Mixed emotions greeted Charles when Haytham finally had to leave the following day. The grey dawn filtered through and Connor was still abed, Mr Wolf and Miss Kitty tucked under the covers with him.

“Must you go Sir? Surely I can be of some assistance?”

Haytham smiled and kissed him of the forehead. Charles sighed, but looked up at Haytham who was now so close their breaths mingled. Those grey eyes he adored so much were steady showing no signs of displeasure or undue unease.

“You know I must Charles, who else can look after Ziio? Just as I must go you have to stay here and care for Connor, I somehow think you wouldn’t be very happy to leave him in the care of anyone else.” The shrewd expression made Charles flush in embarrassment at being found out.

“No, I would be terribly unhappy and unsettled and therefore useless, a danger in the field.” Charles sighed and dropped his head to Haytham’s shoulder, not wishing Haytham to see the worry in his face.

“I will miss you as will Connor.”

Haytham’s hand cupped the back of his head, fingers tangling in his dark hair, unfettered by a ribbon. “I know and I shall ah, miss you both as well.”

Charles smiled at Haytham’s awkwardness at expressing his emotions still.

“Then return fast as you may with Ziio secure so we may all have a good day.”

“We shall.” Lips brushed his crown, “I wish William and Thomas could remain but John insists we need further back-up and they are seasoned brothers who understand my tactics.”

“All will be well, we do have Hornigold to guard us and I shall be cautious to only go to Abstergo if I must. Otherwise we shall concern ourselves with the house and garden only.”

“See that you do Charles.”

Haytham gently drew away and with a last fleeting smile exited their room stopping quickly to check his son before joining William and Thomas who were by the door. His two friends saluted him while Haytham just waved.

Charles didn’t say anything just watched them slip out the door like ghosts. The light in the sky was barely there still grey with a mist curling over the city. It was like an eerie expectation hung over them so much so that Charles shivered. Annoyed by the superstitious fear Charles shut the door and darted up the stairs. Opening Connor’s door fully he relaxed when he saw Connor still asleep, eyelashes long on his cheeks.

He was thoroughly unable to shake his raw nerves; Charles never liked being separated from Haytham or the others during such an important mission, one which could change the entire battle between Templars and Assassins.

Now that Connor was in their lives Charles found he loathed it more for he wished both to go and stay. Leaning on the doorframe Charles rubbed his face. _Staying is better than going, if anything happened to you Connor, I would never forgive myself or the one meant to protect you._

Connor didn’t reply just turned in his dreams. Charles closed his eyes against his unusual forebodings. Why now? Did all parents feel this way? Did Ziio? He would have to ask her.

Deciding to patrol the house until Connor rose Charles went on a circuit trying to allay his fears.

= = =

“Can we play Knights again Mr Lee?” asked Connor, looking up at him with a hopeful expression. His crayon was clutched tightly in his hand where he had been attempting to draw his new family. Currently Thomas sported neon green hair standing on end, while William’s hair was blue. John was faring better with a brown mess while Haytham was black squiggles on a round face. Ziio and Charles were just being formed by a studious Connor, whose tongue was sticking out as he got things _just right ok_. Charles was rather flattered and could hardly wait to show Haytham, his Templar brothers and Ziio who he prayed wouldn’t be offended by Connor’s inclusion of their little boy band as it were.

“Do you need a break?”

“Yup!”

“Then I don’t see why not. My hand is also stiff from drawing.” Putting his green crayon down Charles showed Connor his paper with a flourish. “How do you like my Pom?”

It was green at Connors instructions even though Charles had started to explain dogs didn’t come in green only to stop, shrug his shoulders and realise it didn’t matter.

“It’s great!” cried Connor dropping his crayon and picking up his drawing he asked Charles eagerly, “And mine?”

“Perfect. The others will love it.” Connor beamed. “Will you draw Miss Kitty and Mr Wolf as well?”

“Of course!” exclaimed Charles ensuring he was properly scandalised, “How couldn’t I?”

Connor giggled and happily jumped up. “We’ll be Knights exploring Boston!”

“Indeed, let-”

The ringing of the phone interrupted Charles. Frowning, Charles stood and retrieved the phone to discover Connor standing beside him, two curious pools of dark brown staring up at him. Putting an arm around Connor, Charles asked, “Yes?”

“Charles, it’s Julien.”

“Julien whatever is the matter?” Julien du Casse was the head of their Weapons Department. Julien was a brilliant addition to their Order, working miracles with steel, transforming the current Hidden Blade with even more adaptable extras. His ability to merge silver and gold into their delicate armoury was outstanding and along with Pitcairn’s love of cars, motorcycles and essentially anything vehicular, they blended together both aspects to form a rather frightening front to fight against.

Julien was also not a man easily unsettled and had been informed not to call Charles unless vitally important.

“It’s my weapons research lab. I am sure that someone has been snooping, nothing is missing but the Hidden Blade cabinet has been tampered with. Whoever did it was unable to open it naturally and I have been keeping my latest version of the Hidden Blade in my other lab, but it is unnerving.”

Crap, just what they needed. “Are you sure the cabinet was touched?”

“I can be trusted not to mistake my own fiddling with the furniture in my laboratory.”

Oh fantastic. “I understand the urgency Julien, but I am not in a position to rush over.”

“Charles, are you serious? This could be an infiltration by the Assassins!”

“Or a work employee being careless and forgetting to inform you that they required an item from the cabinet.”

“Mr Lee,” whispered Connor pulling his shirt. Gazing down at Connor, Charles raised an eyebrow.

“Is it Knight business?”

“Yes.”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry Julien, I wasn’t speaking to you.”

“It’s okay! We’re Knights! Can we go?” The plea was so intense Charles hesitated. To be fair this could be serious, but how could he leave Connor? There was no one he trusted with a child, not even Hornigold. Biting his lip Charles finally caved knowing Haytham would be furious if he didn’t investigate.

“Very well, we shall come, however have security waiting for us.”

“We? Okay then, I’ll be there myself with Woodes and Elise, can’t trust anyone else.”

“Yippee!” shrieked Connor jumping up and down, hugging his legs simultaneously so that Charles was quite dazed for a second.

Sighing and regretting his decision already Charles dropped the phone and gazed at Connor. Inhaling at the sight of the excited four year old, Charles said very sternly, “You must obey my every word Connor. It could be very dangerous and a good Knight listens. Understand?”

“Yes,” Connor gasped, face so serious it was the image of Haytham. Swallowing, Charles nodded and gathered what they might need.

= = =

An hour later Ben was driving into the underground car park of Abstergo headquarters in Boston. The familiar grey walls slid past and Charles checked warily for any intruders. He saw none, only a mostly empty car park with only a handful of employees – all wearing passes – heading inside.

Ben parked in their usual spot and got out.

Charles turned to Connor for they were both seated in the back with a cheer he did not feel. “What do you think so far Connor?”

“It’s boring,” pouted Connor who wriggled in his car-seat. Charles chuckled, “Well, car parks aren’t the most exciting places thankfully.”

Unbuckling Connor, Charles put his hand over Connor’s. “Remember what I said?”

“I follow you _everywhere_ and listen?”

“Yes.” Smiling a little, Charles removed his hand and unclipping his belt checked his bag. It was a rucksack he could easily carry in case he had to pick up Connor.

Ben opened the door then, “All clear Sir. I’d better stay here while until you’re out.”

“Excellent,” Charles managed to get Connor out of his seat and together they exited the car into the brightly lit car park.

Charles allowed Connor to look around as he slipped the rucksack on before taking Connor’s right hand.

Ben stepped in front of them and seeing the trio waiting at the entrance to the lifts Charles began walking, trailing Ben and herding Connor.

However, half-way across Connor stopped and yanked his hand whimpering. Alarmed Charles crouched and saw Connor with tears clinging to his eyelashes.

“What’s the matter Connor?”

“My…my…head.”

Scared, Charles put a hand on Connor’s forehead, “What is wrong?” It had to be serious, so far Charles knew Connor to be brave and uncaring of his injuries so why the abrupt slip?

Connor blinked and said in voice that trembled, “Everyone has colours around them.”

_Colours? Oh no…_

Charles heart sank, he knew only one reason for Connor seeing people in colours: Eagle Sense. It made sense of course, his Father possessed such a skill, but Charles had not entertained the idea that Connor might have a similar ability, or at least so young! Did it truly appear at such a young age or was he special? Charles could tell also by how quiet Connor was that he knew it wasn’t normal and was terrified.

Calmly as possible Charles embraced Connor and said soothingly, “That’s fine Connor, perfectly normal.”

“It is?” sobbed Connor.

“Yes, shush, how about I carry you hmmm?”

“Huh, huh.”

“Is he alright?” Ben’s agitated voice reached Charles and standing with Connor now in his arms Charles saw Ben sweeping the area, body posed for battle.

“Yes,” bouncing Connor, Charles was about to continue when Connor whined, “Those people are in red. Why? Everybody is blue.”

Charles’ heart went cold as if turned to ice. Not daring to turn Charles addressed Ben who was alert and only a flicker in his eyes depicting his horror.

“Where?” Charles asked quietly.

“Behind us,” sniffed Connor.

“How many Connor?”

“Two.”

“Okay, now listen, those two are our enemies and like good Knights we are going to use this car as a fort.” Charles knew they would never make it to the lifts, Ben’s alarmed expression told him that the Assassins had realised somehow they were uncovered.

Would they harm a child? Maybe not. Would they use the son of the Grandmaster against him and his Seneschal as a topping? Yes.

Father of Understanding guide him!

Terror was squeezing his chest, his breathing difficult to control as with one swift movement he sprinted around and behind the nearest car. Landing painfully Charles succeeded in not hissing and carefully lowered Connor to the ground.

“Don’t move,” he said firmly. Connor nodded shaken, but bravely no longer crying and staying as still as a four year old could.

Then gunfire exploded around them and Connor cried out immediately looking ashamed. “It is okay to be afraid,” reassured Charles fiercely and pulling out his pistol, he jumped as Ben dropped beside them, still firing.

“Elise, Julien and Woodes are trying to usher people out while forming a defensive ring. Back-up will arrive in five.”

Charles peered around the corner and was sick to his stomach.

“That’s too late, they’re using the pillars and have climbed above us onto the first floor.”

Hornigold stared at him dispassionately. “Sneak towards the lifts, we still have a minute or two while they loop.”

That was a dreadful plan full of terrible danger for Connor yet staying was worse. Picking Connor up who didn’t speak just grimly held on, Charles rose and bolted two car lengths ere Hornigold was throwing him down. Crying out as he landed badly, rolling to shield his precious cargo Charles uncurled by a heavy jeep.

Connor groaned and squirmed out of his grasp but didn’t run just asked, “What’s going on?”

“Our enemies are chasing us,” explained Charles as steadily as he could.

“And they are now a little ways behind,” grunted Hornigold who crawled away and began firing again, a continuous painful noise which echoed. Charles heard Julien shouting and then possibly firing as the din increased. They were clearly attempting to dissuade the Assassins giving them time to escape, unfortunately as they didn’t know exactly where Connor and Charles were they had to be restrained.

Holding his gun tighter Charles aimed a shot at one of the fire alarms. It sputtered and died. The emergency system instantly turned on the waterworks and soaked the area. Panting Charles blinked back water. The slippery conditions would slow the Assassins making climbing the cars treacherous.

“Charles! Damnit. Don’t shoot!”

Shocked Charles found Benjamin Church, Head of the Medical Department in Abstergo and member of the Inner Circle of the Colonial Rite, crawling close, clothes in disarray.

“What are you doing here?” suspicious feelings coiled in his gut and he slid in front of Connor who disapproved in a shriek.

“I was packing my research into the car when this chaos started! I noticed you and came over.” Ben sounded angry and hurt, “I wouldn’t betray you Charles.”

Charles hesitated then relaxed, if Ben was a traitor he wouldn’t actually hurt any of his companions, it did not fit his character. Anyway, Charles knew fear when he saw it, smelled it and heard it. And Ben was no actor.

“I believe you.”

Edging past Connor, Charles saw shadows moving in the wetness. Hornigold joined them, slithering on his belly.

“They’re close.”

“Sh…can we stop them?”

Ben didn’t lie to him, “No.”

Charles wanted to scream in rage at the Assassins for trapping them so effectively, for himself listening to Julien and bringing Connor here. Looking at the boy Charles saw frightened brown eyes gazing up at him, hair plastered to his head. Yet the little face was sombre, as if Connor understood he had to be brave. _You’re a true Knight Connor. Oh Father of Understanding how can I keep you safe?_

As if in a dream Charles stroked Connor’s wet hair. Connor smiled weakly and asked, “Are we going to fight like Robin Hood?”

“No darling,” where had that little endearment come from? Charles supposed that’s what happened naturally when you loved someone. Connor glowed at the term and seemed more settled, used perhaps to hearing his Mother call him such things.

“We can’t fight, I am not strong enough against two Assassins.” It was a horrid truth to tell Connor, but Charles couldn’t lie now, not when it might cost them. Connor must know the situation so he could act accordingly.

Connor frowned and yelped as he caught a snatch of a red shape most likely approaching beyond. Glaring up at Charles he appeared to be thinking, small face twisted with effort. Then he raised his left hand, wrist wrapped with the red Templar Cross.

“I’ll protect you,” hissed Connor, frightened yet angry. “We’re Knights! All for one!”

Such valour. Charles wished to cry and laugh and beam with pride. Startled by these emotions Charles nodded and anxiously held Connor as close as he dared. Hornigold meanwhile slid to the end of the car and flexed his wrist. A blade, darkened, slid out from a vambrace. Charles’ mouth went dry. That meant the Assassins were close.

Connor’s head was dark against his suit as he strained to catch their enemy coming and stop them. Charles’s heart hurt from how much he loved Connor and catching Ben’s eye Charles understood there was only one course remaining.

Was it only yesterday he had given his word that he would defend Connor to his last breath if needs be? It was an oath only given to himself, but one Charles would fulfil. He couldn’t help it; he loved this boy more than anything, only Haytham edged out. Overcome by the slew of such potent emotions Charles hugged Connor as tightly as he dared without crushing the child.

Connor gasped and gazed up. “Mr Lee?”

“I love you Connor, be good and follow Mr Church like a great Knight.”

“But…aren’t you coming?”

Charles smiled, glad for the constant deluge that concealed his wet eyes, “Yes,” _Even if it is in spirit._

“Now go,” he pushed Connor with a final kiss to Ben who was horrified.

“Charles…”

“Now Benjamin!”

With that Charles leapt up and Hornigold snarled as he followed. Together they ran out into the main road and Charles saw two shapes rushing to meet them. Connor’s shriek was distant, but Charles was relieved to hear their steps receding.

Hornigold managed to reach one Assassin first, jumping from the slippery surface of a car and onto his victim. They rolled and then Charles was being pushed down by a female Assassin. He barred her killing strike with his arm, gun skittering off, growling as the blade cut his arm.

She was strong, green eyes dark with determination. Charles couldn’t push her off as she pinned him to the wet surface, all he could do was push up and try not to be struck by her blade. The Assassin had the upper hand, being on top and possessing that infernal contraption! Charles clenched his teeth and panted as he felt her press a knee into his stomach.

The pain in his arm, the wash of blood was too much and his arm weakened and the blade scraped his coat, slicing through to his chest and ribs. Agony dug his world and Charles could barely support his meagre resistance. It didn’t matter, Connor was surely safe and his submission was all for that. Killing the second-in-command was more prudent than chasing a child.

Abruptly she vanished just as her blade started cutting deeper. In a haze Charles saw Hornigold and then Connor was scrambling over him crying and yelling. Church was trying to drag him of, pressing a coat against his wounds. Charles coughed, “Connor?”

Connor’s wails were confused, darkness crowded in and Charles fell into the hole.

= = =

Awakening was surprisingly easy. It was as if he had had a pleasant sleep to wake alert the next day. However, as he blinked his eyes open Charles became aware of the restrictive band around his ribs and the pain when he tried breathing too deeply.

The room was bright and Charles recognised the medical rooms as Abstergo. Connor. Shit! In a panic Charles scrabbled up and as his side raged swore.

“Care!” the female voice was low and urgent, full of raw concern.

Charles turned his head and was stunned to see Ziio beside him. She was leaning over his bed and with a small yet firm hand braced his back while with her right gripped his hand to assist in re-positioning himself.

What astonished Charles was the concern and exhausted expression: Ziio was pale, dark crescents under her eyes making the dark pools blacker and her voice was raw from fear. Charles’ heart seemed to freeze, pierced like a shard of ice.

“Connor? Is he safe? Please…”

Ziio actually smiled and some warmth returned, a little weariness dropping away. “Yes, all thanks to you Charles. I cannot begin to say how grateful I am for you sacrificing yourself to save my son.” Charles gasped as relief was a physical shock and he couldn’t halt the sobs from wracking his sore chest. Ziio clutched his hand tighter and using her free left hand reached for a tissue off his table. Then Ziio closed her eyes as they grew wet and opening them, swallowing down her emotions, “Whatever you need or desire Charles, simply ask.”

Charles just wanted one thing as he cried with joy, “Connor?”

“MR LEE!!!”

Ziio burst into laughter and tears, “I think that has solved itself Charles.”

Haytham brought a struggling Connor in his arms who he put down on top of Charles with, “Be gentle son!”

Charles simply cried harder, laughing too as everything became mixed, joining Ziio. Connor was white with tiredness and grief. Eyes black wells in a face streaked with tears, voice breaking, and rough as he hugged Charles not tender at all. Charles didn’t care, Connor was safe and was here, still loving him.

Haytham’s hand stroked his cheek as Charles wrapped Connor in a hug kissing the boy fiercely on the cheeks and forehead. Connor sniffed and snuggled close, voice weak, “Don’t go away again Mr Lee. Please don’t. I thought you’d died.”

“No, Connor I hadn’t. Mr Church saved me. And it was worth it if you’re safe.”

“He cried all the time Charles,” Haytham was a sweet murmur to him, love so strong in his voice that Charles was basking in the shock of relief, gratitude and pure love aimed at him and by him. Peering up Charles saw Haytham’s expression and how pale the Grandmaster was! Fear and worry were etched into the fine handsome features and Charles was delirious at how Haytham had been scared for his lover in a strange way. It was nice being reassured of his place in Haytham’s eyes – in Connor’s and now in Ziio’s.

Love was a delicious pain to be enjoyed.

Charles resolved to become good friends with Ziio, for Connor’s sake, for the worry and gratitude offered unbiasedly by Ziio. Such an extension of trust was too good to throw away on petty jealously now wholly unfounded. He had Haytham and Connor and Ziio for an ally and friend if he wasn’t idiotic. Ziio had Connor and them in turn so really everyone benefited.

“We couldn’t keep him away,” added Ziio. “So we took it in turns.”

“Ziio generously offered to stay while the rest of us were occupied,” Haytham sounded so aggrieved and angry that Charles smiled.

“It was nothing,” dismissed Ziio. “He saved our son, I couldn’t do more unless it is to kill the men who tried hurting my boy and Charles.”

Connor looked up no longer crying, just resting against Charles with a death grip on his hospital gown.

“Me too! I can protect Mr Lee. I’ll kill them!”

“I’m sure son you would do a fine job, but it might be better for you to guard Charles while Ziio and I did the job.”

 _This was getting ridiculous._ “I’m here,” protested Charles.

Haytham’s mouth twisted, “Yes?”

Charles wanted to argue he was fine and would rather everyone remained calm when he was interrupted by John, Thomas, William and Church rushing in, followed by Hornigold. Amidst the happy reunion and a frank telling off by a shaken Church, Charles quite forgot to chide his band of merry avengers.

= = =

It took a month for Charles to heal fully, a month spent at home with Haytham hovering protectively whenever he could spare the time. When Haytham was not there Charles had a revolving procession of Ziio, Ben Hornigold, Ziio and members of the Inner Circle trampling his home.

Connor and Ziio had stayed while Charles healed, Connor too terrified to leave while his precious Mr Lee could still suffer from his injuries. Church had reassured them all that eventually Connor’s nightmares about losing Charles would subside when he realised Charles wasn’t going anywhere. Indeed, Connor was beginning to display signs of that healing already.

Charles sighed as he relaxed on the armchair, watching John explain his latest engine overhaul to an enchanted Connor. He would miss Connor when he left with his Mother, but he and Ziio were now on fantastic terms, mapping out a strange new friendship. He and Haytham would have Connor regularly, every other weekend and half of each holiday. Of course Ziio was always welcome.

“Uncle John,” said Charles as his ears caught ‘ride’, ‘fast’ and ‘cool’, “Don’t even _dream_ of taking Connor on a motorbike ride.”

John’s mouth fell open and Connor whined.

“Listen to him Connor,” shouted Ziio from the kitchen as she prepared a cake to celebrate Charles’ return to fitness, “And John don’t you dare either.”

Charles grinned. Oh how he loved having Ziio on his side. Smug Charles laughed at John’s put out expression then Connor was bouncing over and with a grumble was in his lap playing with his cravat.

Haytham sat down next to Charles on the arm-rest, languidly putting an arm behind him so Charles could lean back and they could sneak a private moment.

Connor glanced up and bit his bottom lip. He was so serious, that Charles was suddenly worried. What could be troubling his little boy now, though Charles felt pain at not being able to call Connor ‘son’. That permission had to come naturally from Connor.

“What is the matter Connor?” asked Charles gently.

Connor curled his hand around Charles’ cravat.

“Mr Pitcairn is my uncle and so is...”

“Are,” murmured Charles.

“Are…” repeated Connor dutifully, “Mr Johnson and Mr Hickey _and_ Mr Church?”

“Yes,” said Haytham evidently puzzled, “Uncle William and Uncle Thomas.”

Charles forced himself to maintain a smile because Connor had not yet called him Uncle yet and he was desperately hurt, plus puzzled like Haytham and Ziio on such reticence.

Connor sighed and said quietly, “You and Father sleep in the same bed?”

Crap, Charles had wondered when Connor would ask the obvious. Charles swallowed, reckoning had arrived. “Yes.”

“Uncle John shares a bed with his wife.” Connor was studying him minutely and his Father. Charles’ heart beat faster.

“We’re special friends son,” said Haytham cautiously, body tense. John was quiet, watching but not interrupting, no guilt touching his face, but then why should he be guilty of the truth?

Caressing Connor’s back to soothe the tense boy Charles blinked at Connor’s next question, “Are you married?”

“Married?” he stuttered.

“Why do you think we’re married?” asked Haytham, flicking a warning at Charles to remain calm.

“Because married people share beds,” It was innocently said and Charles grinned.

“Well Connor, that’s true but so do friends occasionally.” Haytham flexed his arm behind Charles.

Connor stared at his Father then back at Charles, “But I saw you kissing Mr Lee!”

“Friends kiss,” began Haytham.

“Uh huh, you kissed him on the lips,” Connor looked a little disgusted. “ _Ick_. Like Kanen'tó:kon’s Mother and Father.”

Charles flushed. What would Haytham think now? Would he be angry they were caught? When? How?

“Ah,” Haytham reached out and laid a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Yes, we kissed. We love each other very much.”

“Then why did you lie? Lying’s bad.”

“We did not lie Connor, we are friends that love each other very much.” Haytham studied his son, “Do you mind?”

“No, why?” Connor looked baffled. He fiddled with a shirt button of Charles’. “So you’re married?”

Charles hugged Connor, relief so powerful flooding him at Connor’s easy acceptance like being seized by the sea’s tide. “No Connor we’re not, your Father and I are boyfriends.”

“Mum says that people who share a bed are married,” protested Connor. Charles could understand why Ziio had kept it simple at Connor’s age, but oh dear. He could also hear a snigger from the kitchen and it appeared their alliance was being exploited most awfully for purposes Charles didn’t understand yet.

“I’m assure you Connor, I love Charles as much as if we were married.” The softly spoken declaration sounded simple fact from Haytham’s mouth yet it was tremendously potent in the reaction it spurred in Charles. The love essentially shouted out by this reserved and private man, a Grandmaster of the Templars – the _best_ in Charles’ opinion – was overwhelming and Charles poured as much of his gratefulness and joy in his face as he gazed at Haytham, love-struck most like.

He knew Haytham loved him without doubt, but a public announcement of that love like this was what Charles had craved in a way.

Haytham’s mouth turned up and he inclined his head, elegant as ever, in his manner answering Charles’ devotion with his own.

“So are you going to marry?”

Connor addressed this to Charles and twisting forced Charles to open his legs so he could kneel and stare at Charles properly.

Surely the Spanish Inquisition was less persistent? John was laughing and Ziio too. Conspiracy! Before Charles could answer Haytham dropped a bombshell that left Charles too dazed with shock and happiness to do much more than reel in joy.

“When we have time I will make the appropriate advances to Charles. I’ll ask him to marry me,” elaborated Haytham further when Connor didn’t understand. Connor beamed and flung his arms around Charles.

“So I can call you Daddy?” Connor sounded so enthused and relieved that Charles was jolted to comprehend that this was the reason for all the questions.

“Um,” Charles was too stunned to respond, heart beating fast, mind awhirl with possibilities. Haytham was beaming, composure shattered by the same knowledge and he kissed Connor on the head.

“So that’s why all the questions! Clever boy. If you like son. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I like Daddy!” said Connor firmly and then Charles found himself being hugged ferociously and a child’s voice nattering in his ear about cake. Meeting Haytham’s steady grey eyes and the conviction in them Charles shared a rare tender smile, well, at least Connor wasn’t horrified or jealous and his priorities concerning a wedding were typical for a child.

“Finally,” shouted Ziio. “Agreed,” remarked John, “I’ll phone the others. Congratulations both.”

Charles ignored them and focused on Connor.

“Vanilla cake… _son_ ,” mumbled Charles and hugged Connor back.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support! This was first proper fic with Haytham/Charles and it grew beyond what I initially thought. It has been a wonderful adventure possible by my lovely beta rae_fa whose patience and guiding hand helped make this fic better and ‘get’ Connor’s voice better. It also was invaluable sebastiandragon’s encouragement and everyone who commented or left kudos-likes. Thank you to all of you!
> 
> The last chapter is a ‘bonus’ and covers the first two chapters from Haytham’s view. :) 
> 
> 1.) Sebastiandragon allowed me to use her version of Julien du Casse’s profession, in ‘One Day Inside Abstergo’ a side story to ‘Tomorrow Will Take it Away’, where he works as Head of the weapons development team. Thank you for allowing me! :)
> 
> 2.) Yes, I referenced the boy band I couldn’t resist. :D


	7. Bonus Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haytham was beginning to wonder if he would have to be more obvious with his intentions towards Charles, since his seneschal was being strangely unobservant. Of course Ziio turned up and to Haytham’s eternal astonishment and gratitude he was given everything he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bonus chapter covering the first two or so chapters from Haytham’s Point of View. It begins a little before the timeline in Chapter One. :) I had trouble deciding on Haytham & Charles’ favourite restaurant (so many to pick from!) so asked on Tumblr to choose from a list and charlesleebutt (tumblr) selected the English pub option. :) Thank you!
> 
> = ^_^ =

_The Beginning_

Haytham liked Charles from the very beginning. His enthusiasm was refreshing in an Order where even among good men and women there was the occasional taint of cynicism. Haytham was not immune to such cynicism, but he felt he balanced it out nicely with the complete conviction that what the Templars, Abstergo, were trying to achieve was necessary, good and would usher in a New Order that would ultimately ensure a much better world for the average citizen.

However, Charles…well, the man was in utter awe of the man he met in Boston. So eager and anxious to assist and as they walked it was clear to Haytham how determined Charles was to prove himself.

Over the next few months Haytham had been pleasantly surprised at Charles’ intelligence and quickness of thinking. It had been Charles whose persistence had located Ziio when she vanished after their operation to bust Silas’ human trafficking ring. Charles who had considered all options and then in an intriguing twist had asked: why approach the reservations? They certainly would not answer his queries and that was hardly surprising. No, Charles had simply decided that to find Ziio one had to find similar operations like Silas which surely she would also track down.

His thinking had paid off handsomely and Haytham had been paired with Ziio in a temporary alliance that while hadn’t opened the precursor site, had at least destroyed his maddened brother Braddock.

Charles’ efforts in the case had proven to Haytham that Charles was not simply sugared words or desperate acts to have his Grandmaster’s eyes on him, but a man who found the Order’s principles as much a part of him as Haytham did.

The Initiation Ceremony was rewarding as Haytham couldn’t help but compare Charles’ usual state, (twinkling eyes and servient demeanour similar to his beloved Pomeranians when looking at their master), to the proud, confident man who entered their Templar Order.

Charles still thought the world of Haytham, which was nice and strengthened Haytham’s resolve, though Haytham was hardly perfect and such trust was sometimes a difficult weight to carry.

Over the next year Haytham was thrown much together with Charles, William, Benjamin, Thomas and John. Yet it was with Charles he connected, their conversations so similar in deed and beliefs. Haytham wondered if they might become friends eventually, a blessing he hadn’t received much in life.

= ^_^ =

_The Middle_

Haytham sat down opposite his seneschal with a smile. Charles had been bent over his computer and hadn’t noticed Haytham’s entrance – unusual to say the least, not that Haytham was upset – until Haytham pulled the spare seat on the other side of Charles’ desk and fallen with a purposeful lack of grace into the chair.

“Sir! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you enter.”

Haytham smiled more, Charles was delightful when flustered (at him, at Hickey he was an irritated man muttering insults, most famously ‘lobcock’ or ‘heathen’ when concerning culture…actually still cute even if Haytham would deny it to his last breath).

“No need to apologise Charles. I am gratified to see that you take your reports seriously.”

Charles beamed. It was always a boost to Haytham’s ego at how easily Charles’ mood lightened when praised by his Grandmaster. Now Haytham hoped such a good mood would assist in the serious matter he wished to lay before Charles.

This was almost new territory to Haytham and unlike Jim Holden he had to be careful how he phrased his question so Charles didn’t consent just _because_ Haytham was inquiring.

“Charles do you care for a bite after work? If so I shall ask my secretary to book a table at The Blue Fox.”

Charles leaned back in his chair stretching slightly, wincing at the crack from working over the computer most likely for hours.

“That would be fantastic sir. What time? I have almost finished my report on the new game we wish to release.”

“How is that going Charles? I recall you groaning over the costumes last night over our drinks in the bar.”

Charles sighed, his mouth twisting wryly, “Well the costumes are part of my report, but the attention to historical detail is appalling, especially since Abstergo is aiming for greater accuracy in comparison to other companies.”

Irritation curled through Haytham. Must the story unit be so useless? And now he had caused Charles to be upset over their actions when he had planned for Charles’ humour to be relaxed and pleased at sharing dinner with Haytham. If his plans fell through he would personally discuss the issue with them.

Grim, yet feeling cheered by the promise he had made, Haytham decided to push things along and sweeten Charles over their meal.

“I am sure we can rectify this together Charles.” Checking his watch more for show since he had already planned the dinner and in fact booked the table, (after all Charles was hardly likely to say no to him), Haytham said soothingly, “It is four thirty now, I think 6:30 will grant you enough time to finish and freshen up?”

Charles nodded eagerly, bright blue eyes shining happily once more. “Yes sir, should I meet you there?”

“Nonsense Charles, you have everything you require here to clean up as do I. I shall call Hornigold to be ready to take us at six to the pub.”

Charles flushed, “Yes sir, I shall be ready.”

“Excellent, see you at five to six Charles.”

Satisfied Haytham left with a bounce in his step.

= = =

Charles as ever was punctual. He was waiting for Haytham when he entered Charles’ office. Charles had put on a fresh shirt for this one was pale blue instead of white as earlier and his cravat was a delicate grey. He was wearing his black suit jacket like Haytham and his shoes were brightly polished.

It warmed Haytham to see how well they matched as he too was still wearing his suit but with a simple white shirt to his dark blue jacket and trousers. They looked like proper gentlemen standing side by side as Templar Knights ought to appear when not in battle.

“Good to see you are ready Charles. Shall we proceed?”

Charles’ smile was wide and with a nervous bounce in his step he was beside Haytham. “I’m famished Sir.”

Haytham laughed at Charles’ enthusiasm, “Then I better take you to the pub as quickly as possible. Can’t have my second in command fainting.”

Charles went red, rather delightful Haytham mused and stammered, “Sir, I would never-”

“Peace Charles, it is all in good fun.”

At his words Charles relaxed and a companionable silence fell as they descended to the underground car park where Hornigold was waiting for them. Haytham had decided only one guard would be sufficient for them and they did have a car stationed not far from where they were having dinner.

Haytham hadn’t become Grandmaster by being stupid or needlessly reckless.

It did not take long for Hornigold to drive them to the pub and shortly Haytham and Charles were exiting the sleek car in a quieter corner of Boston. Directly ahead was The Blue Fox, the sign painted with a picture of a leaping fox shaded in royal blue. The eyes were golden and on either side of the entrance were lanterns already lit.

Together they entered with Hornigold slipping in five minutes afterwards to position himself at a table not far from them.

In the meantime the waitress had directed them to their table, a small quiet booth. The interior of the pub was all wood with decorative rugs and typical pictures of the English countryside adorning the walls. Charles always delighted in the ones showing an English squire or in a couple of instances, a gamekeeper with their hunting dogs in their role of maintaining either an estate or other numerous stretches of land, conserving the wildlife living on it.

Haytham had a certain fondness for seeing the Portsmouth docks as it reminded him of his father’s early days, though unfortunately his father was not of the honourable Navy but rather a smuggler.

The table was small and intimate and Haytham noticed how the closeness both thrilled Charles and caused a surge of nervousness. Well that wasn’t very helpful considering Haytham was nervous enough already for both of them. It was ridiculous to feel this way and Haytham battered the sensation away.

He was entirely successful.

Well, maybe not _entirely_.

Charles picked up the menu reading it quickly as they both knew it off by heart. Suddenly he stopped and gazed with surprise and pleasure at the card. He asked curiously, “Are you having your usual Sir? I fancy trying something new.”

Haytham laughed, “Naturally Charles. I have yet to come across a steak and ale pie in America, unless I’m frequenting the wrong parts. However, I will be surprised if you succeed in tearing yourself away from your fish, chips and peas.”

Charles grinned, “Yes, but they have now added shepherd’s pie to the menu! I wondered when they would and it would be a taste of home to have.”

“Really?” Haytham was intrigued and damnit, he was tempted too. Reaching out Haytham took the menu from his seneschal with a quick grin and friendly wink which had Charles blush and his eyes brighten. 

“Indeed they do. Well, it’s hardly a proper English pub without shepherd’s pie. What was their excuse for not having it previously?”

“They wished to locate a good source of lamb sir. Organic, naturally reared and not fed chemicals.”

“Reasonable.” Haytham put down the card and raised an eyebrow at Charles, “Really Charles you have put me in a bind. I’ll have to sacrifice my steak and ale pie to be able to partake in this victory. I believe your silver tongue is becoming purer.”

“Oh sir I didn’t mean…” Haytham laughed again. His attempts to lighten the mood and relax Charles were working. He was saying the right things! After all, being able to relax and tease each other was what…Haytham halted his thoughts and forced himself to focus on the moment or shamefully his nerves would return with a league of assassins.

“Charles, did I sound as if I took offence?” The gentle nudge was easily picked up and assessed by Charles who froze momentarily then began to grin widely. He sat a little straighter and his hopeful look was keener, as if he realised that whatever dreams he held weren’t so impossible.

Haytham said nothing enjoying Charles’ happiness until their waitress interrupted asking their order. They both hurriedly requested shepherd’s pie and for a change, beer.

He ensured to maintain an easy chatter while they waited for their food, purposefully not touching on Abstergo or the Order. Instead he delved into Charles’ only family, eking out the latest news on Sidney and how she was managing their estate in England; Charles’ lamenting that he couldn’t have a Pomeranian where he currently lived in his rented flat, (which gave Haytham an idea…) and their colleagues, namely Otso Berg’s daughter’s birthday.

They continued in this vein whilst they ate, sampling the warm bronze ale with relish. Charles tentatively asked about Haytham’s sister Jenny which Haytham did his best to be open and encouraging about. Finally they finished and were sitting back waiting for dessert, Charles dabbing at his moustache when Haytham rallied his courage.

It was time.

Sipping his tea to steady his hands Haytham delicately put down the cup and focused on Charles who became still, watching inquisitively, not yet drawn from his peaceful state.

“Charles, I would like to ask you something, well to be precise request something of you.”

Charles’ unwavering blue eyes were slightly startled at the Grandmaster’s unusual rambling so Haytham quickly said, “But I must ask you first to swear you will answer honestly, as a true Templar, and not agree simply because of who I am.”

Redness seeped into Charles’ cheeks and it was with a most distressed tone that Charles said earnestly, “I give you my word Sir. I would never dream to be deceptive towards you Master Kenway.”

Haytham inhaled, “Then I shall proceed. Charles, we have known each other for a while and I am sure you have noticed a connection between us. We get along quite nicely and spend most of our free time in each other’s company. Therefore, to my mind it seems a waste not to take our…acquaintance further.”

Charles was clearly confused though obviously delighted with his confession for his eyes were so bright and his hands were clenched rather tightly around his tea cup as if he feared he would grab his Grandmaster by the hand to shake if he didn’t coral himself.

“Consequently, to save us from ambiguity, I must request that we become friends if you are inclined? It seems the natural step forward.” And wasn’t that a convoluted sentence, unnecessarily complicated?

The silence that fell was agony to Haytham and he wondered instantly whether he had done this correctly. Apart from Holden he hadn’t had real friends due to his training so was this how people became friends? His research had been most unsatisfactory.

However, Charles burst out into a frenzy of unbridled joy, blue eyes bright from sudden tears and his voice cracking from enthusiasm and astonishment, “Sir, I would love that. I didn’t think you thought the same. I promise I truly wish to be friends, had dreamed of it but never thought…Thank you sir!”

Haytham laughed from nervous tension and standing came around to squeeze Charles’ shoulder to only receive instead a rather hard hug.

“So sorry sir, I am too excited.”

“Stop apologising Charles and let me hug you back. I understand friends do embrace so we might as well do this properly. Friendship is a serious business – and Charles?”

“Yes sir?” Haytham liked the way Charles slowly relaxed in their embrace, all warmth and light in his arms. “It’s Haytham. I would like you to call me by my name. Outside work if nothing else.”

Charles shivered in his arms and whispered, “ _Haytham_ ,” sighing with happiness. Haytham saw the surprised and amused expression of their waitress as she came with their desserts: apple pie with custard and Eton mess.

Coughing Haytham carefully withdrew and unable to hide his grin said, “We better finish and then we can celebrate perhaps?”

Charles nodded eagerly, still overcome as he sat in a daze.

Joining his friend, Haytham relaxed. Maybe this friend thing would work out for him. Tasting a full mouthful of delightful meringue and strawberries, he exchanged happy looks with Charles and Haytham knew it wouldn’t be an issue.

Anyway, he would certainly kill anyone who interfered; he hadn’t gained his only friend to have him spirited away.

= = =

Their friendship was an emotional experience for Haytham. Charles was still worshipful of him and it took time for Haytham to convince Charles to use ‘Haytham’ rather than ‘sir’ the majority of time outside work. Haytham found Charles’ mood very much like the sea: one minute serene, a picture of contentment and happiness when suddenly dark clouds gathered and either Charles was dragged down into the deep depths of depression or the high furious anger of a blowing tempest.

Anything in-between was also existent, but Haytham didn’t care for he was fascinated by these different facets of Charles’ personality. No matter how hard Charles apologised for his moods Haytham brushed them off and instead was intrigued by the concept of standing beside not simply one of his brethren, but his friend.

Haytham took friendship seriously and it was a genuine pleasure to support Charles. Heck, Charles supported him constantly, even in the rare glimmer of disagreement he would show which was refreshing and Haytham encouraged. Believing oneself infallible could easily lead to one’s downfall and in their case his friend, their comrades and even the Order.

So they went along and it wasn’t long after they had become friends that Haytham learnt of Charles’ troubles with his flat. It was easy to convince Charles he ought to move in and the only dampener on that experience was Charles not assuming he could immediately.

Haytham resolved to work on that too.

It was perhaps a month after Charles’ arrival that Haytham realised the true breadth of his feelings for Charles. Oh, he had known he loved Charles more fiercely than anyone and enjoyed his company, but that sort of love? That was still a slight revelation…

Lying in his bed Haytham sighed. He should have suspected his feelings for Charles weren’t simple friendship. It was certainly a running joke among Thomas, John and William. Thankfully, Charles was unaware as he would be mortified and probably flee, excusing his presence from the Grandmaster to ‘prevent tarnish to his reputation’ or some such tosh.

_An image of Charles in just his underwear loading their washing machine that morning played across Haytham’s mind. He remembered how nicely Charles’ arse had filled his pants, the elastic stretched around his hips slipping a fraction as he crouched to put in their trousers and socks._

_He was naked except for those pants and slippers and Haytham eyed his way up a strong back to dark hair concealing a very nice neck, not yet groomed and tied back. His lower body informed Haytham that this was a very pleasant picture but could he please touch?_

_It fell into place then: his possessiveness of Charles, their close moments and near constant companionship and in the last six months not going anywhere without the other in social occasions._

_Haytham was insulted by how dim-witted he had been – it was so obvious. He loved Charles intensely and desire was only a small part of that love. He didn’t think Charles would mind if going by Charles’ behaviour was an indicator but still, he had to be sensible of the small possibility that Charles might not have those sort of feelings for him. Now how to tell Charles?_

_Charles rose and turned releasing a small gasp, “Sir – Haytham! I didn’t know you were there.”_

_“Good morning Charles, my apologies. I was lost in thought.”_

_Charles smiled and Haytham adored how handsome his bright blue eyes almost glowed when he was happy._

_It was then Haytham decided to continue has they had with with additions: foster conversations with Charles about adopting Pomeranians together, make it clear to all including Charles that Charles was Haytham’s significant other not only in business occasions but in friendly socials._

That had been this morning, now Haytham wished to fulfil some more base desires.

Slipping a hand into his pyjama trousers Haytham closed a hand around his already half-hard cock. Still holding an image of Charles’ arse in those tight pants Haytham stroked his member, feeling his blood fill the column so it thickened.

White fabric stretched over well-rounded buttocks, a supple back and then bright blue eyes, handsome face and that wonderful moustache – would it tickle him when they kissed? A pale white chest leading down to long legs with scarring on the inside left leg from battle.

Haytham twisted his hand and shuddered at the sensation. Withdrawing, he put more lube onto his hand and fingers. Replacing his hand on his flushed member Haytham pulled strongly once, twice, moaning lowly as sparks of desire ignited in his belly. Pre-come gathered at his tip so Haytham spread it, shivering as his calloused fingers rubbed over the sensitive head.

Would Charles enjoy sucking him, taking in his manhood all the way? Haytham’s breathing was heavier and he knew he wouldn’t last long as his memory fused with his fantasy.

His love engulfing him in warmth, wet and tight. A strong mouth sucking and licking…Haytham increased the speed of his hand, using his other hand now to cup his balls.

Blue eyes staring up at him as Charlessuddenly pulled off then swallowed him again with fierce sucks meant to drive him to the brink. Haytham squeezed his stiff member feeling heat flush through him. Another image of Charles in those damn pants and Haytham pulled painfully on his cock and squeezed his balls one last time.

His orgasm was shattering leaving him breathless as if he had just done an intense free run session. He was also sticky but Haytham couldn’t care. He was content and would have very-Charles-and-him orientated dreams tonight. 

= ^_^ =

_The End_

Haytham wondered what Ziio truly wanted. She said her people needed help and that she knew he could provide such aid. Ziio was not a foolish woman so would understand that after their last failed attempts he wouldn’t be immediately eager to offer services. Of course, Ziio had hinted at the reason for her request and it did sound like something that would interest the Templars.

It was why he agreed. Naturally Charles was less than happy and in the privacy of Haytham’s bedroom had aired his concerns. The underscoring jealously was evident, which while Haythamunderstood, was out of place. Surely his behaviour the last few months indicated exactly where his desires lay?

So to put Charles at ease he had put a hand on Charles’ shoulder, ensuring his eyes spoke for him, pitching his voice low and soothing, _“I’ll be careful Charles. Sit tight and await my return.”_

Charles had smiled, if nervously and subsided. Assured that Charles was reminded who he was interested in; Haytham checked his gun was in place then left with a final promising smile at his friend.

Discovering that he had a son was not one of options Haytham had considered when evaluating the possible reasons for Ziio turning up on his doorstep, let alone Ziio using the fact – however unwillingly – to convince him to offer the Order’s services.

Thankfully the situation was such that they were fortunate Ziio had seen sense and come to them, otherwise both the Assassins and Juno would have an advantage over the Templars – an inconceivable option.

Sitting back in his seat Haytham examined his son, Connor (Haytham for the life of him couldn’t pronounce ‘Ratonhnhaké:ton’), who had come in when his mother had called him. The boy was large for four, with dark eyes and hair and a curious expression. A toy cougar was gripped in one hand.

“Father?” he said warily, glancing up at his mother.

“Yes son, go and say hello.”

Reluctantly the boy stepped forward though as he came up to him, Haytham saw the burning curiosity in those dark eyes. When Haytham didn’t do anything particularly scary Connor seemed encouraged, his nature coming through as the lad boldly climbed onto his lap with a struggle. He helped his son, especially as he was determined not to release his big cat.

Triumphant, his son stared at him hard then said, “Hello Father.” 

Amused and pleased by his son’s courage Haytham replied, “Hello son. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

His son’s nose wrinkled as he contemplated his father’s words then he shrugged and became distracted with his silver Abstergo pin.

“What’s this?” Little hands grabbed at the shiny object. The cougar thankfully didn’t fall on the ground, but Haytham had to rescue the cat and hold it firmly. His son smiled happily and keeping one hand twisting his pin took his cougar back only to hold up for his inspection.

Haytham restrained from brushing his son’shands off and from being hit on the nose by a cougar; he wondered if all children were this grabby. “It is a pin for my tie son. The symbol is from my work: Abstergo.  And that is a very handsome cougar you have there. Do you have more?”

“Uh huh,” said Connor. “Yes, I have lots of animals!”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton, please climb off your father’s lap. You can play later.”

“Okay Mother,” said Connor slipping off and running back to his Mother who he held out arms to. Smiling Ziio picked Connor up and held him close, eyes trained on him.

“Well Haytham?”

“Well what Ziio? You have me where you wanted me. Fortunately, this case is of interest to my Order so I shall lend the resources of my colleagues. However, we must discuss…” Haytham trailed off and raised an eyebrow at Connor.

Ziio nodded and put Connor down. “Go to your room darling while your Father and I discuss things.”

Connor pouted, but nodded. “Bye Mother, bye Father – can we play later?”

Haytham was surprised by his son’s quick acceptance, but managed to gather his demeanour, “Perhaps, I must return to my friends as they will be wondering where I am. You’ll meet one of them soon: Charles Lee.”

Connor nodded, “Okay! Play with him too?”

Haytham had no idea if Charles knew how to play with four year olds or what would be his reaction, but he prayed it would be good. “I’m sure Mr Lee will be happy too.”

Beaming, Connor ran off.

Staring at Ziio once the door was shut Haytham said quietly, “Now we can discuss arrangements. I will expect to see my son Ziio, but do not worry, I shan’t steal him from you. So, how shall we proceed?”

= = =

The morning was long and arduous so Haytham was greatly relieved to escape, his head still spinning from having a son.

He needed to speak to Charles as this would change their relationship, though hopefully not greatly. May the Father of Understanding guide him.

“Charles?” Frowning Haytham stepped further into their house and walked down the corridor, Hornigold not far behind him. “Charles?” Silence replied and confused, but not yet alarmed Haytham checked the first floor while Hornigold swept the downstairs.

“Nothing sir,” he reported when Haytham came down.

“Perhaps Charles went out to the store?” Haytham was baffled as to where Charles could be. Neither man was expected in the office today so Haytham was at a loss, especially at a lack of a note.

There was really no need to be worried, but Haytham was slightly concerned. However, the mystery could be solved quite easily.

Pulling out his mobile Haytham picked Charles number and called. It rang and rang before finally going through to leaving a message.

“Perhaps Charles is in a no signal zone?” Haytham was aware of Hornigold watching with amusement.

Haytham tried again…in fact he may have tried five more times with the same result. He also attempted Charles’ work number, but his efforts were unsuccessful in this area.

Now that was alarming. No longer concealing his worry Haytham addressed Hornigold coolly, “Check all of our normal haunts and report immediately if you hear anything.”

“Yes sir.”

Instantly selecting a new contact Haytham followed, still on the phone even when he got into his car. John picked up the call as he was starting his engine.

“Ah John, is Charles with you?”

“Why would Charles be with me?” John sounded amused.

“Because he’s not answering his mobile, or work number.”

“Shit,” replied John, “well I’ll check around, but I can’t think where Charles would be and you wouldn’t.”

“Indeed. I shall contact William and ask him to also put out a discreet search – if Charles isn’t with him then try Thomas.” The least likely member of their party for Charles to be with, truth be told. However, Church was on business for Haytham so Thomas was the only one remaining that Charles might conceivably have gone with for some peculiar reason.

Unfortunately calling William drew no answer for this mystery, but William promised to pull out all the stops. Extremely relieved Haytham headed to Thomas’ flat.

Ringing the doorbell insistently Haytham was unimpressed when a drunk but still coherent Thomas showed himself. It was astonishing how Thomas succeeded in staying competent when swallowing an ocean’s worth of ale.

“Where’s Charles, Thomas? I have tried everyone else and no-one has seen him and he’s not answering his phone.”

“Oh, he’s here. Having a party we are.” What on earth? Why would Charles actually drink alone with Thomas? Anxious and a little irritated (and maybe ridiculously a tad jealous) Haytham pushed past, calling out, “A sober one I see. Charles? Where are you?”

He entered the living room to see a swaying Charles clearly suffering the effects of too much alcohol. Before Haytham could say anything he had an armful of Charles, which while pleasant wasn’t how he wished it to be.

This behaviour was entirely out of character and deeply concerned Haytham looked down at Charles, seeing glazed blue eyes struggle to focus. Desperation, fear and…love glimmered up at him.

“Charles?”

As if spurred by his name, Charles gripped his shirt to pull up so he could stand level and then a mouth was on him, kissing his lips, a moustache tickling his skin. Stunned, Haytham couldn’t react ere Charles had stopped and then most unfortunately fainted in his arms.

Seriously? Finally he and Charles had an opportunity to kiss and it was when Charles was obviously distressed and not himself? Angry and worried, Haytham managed to pick Charles up, while pinning Thomas with a furious gaze, “You will inform me why Charles is so drunk, why you enabled him and why he is so upset.”

“Those are the same things,” muttered Thomas.

“Forgive me for being careless in my speech when my Charles is unconscious in my arms. Now I shall take Charles to your room so he can sleep for a bit, then take him home once we have spoken further on this matter.”

 = = =

When Thomas had finished explaining why Charles was so distraught Haytham felt foolish and deeply angry at himself. Apparently what had been obvious to him and others wasn’t so for Charles.

When Charles awoke Haytham focused on easing Charles from his anxiety and shame. He wanted his friend and hopefully by the end of this conversation boyfriend, lover, to know this affection was mutual, that he wished them to be together and how much Haytham loved him. First however, he needed to hear from Charles his reasons and what he thought so this could be laid to rest.

Alternatingly teasing and allowing his affection for Charles to show, Haytham eased out the truth he needed.

Haytham sighed as Charles fell silent, expecting final confirmation, eyes wide and hands trembling in Haytham’s steady ones.

Maintaining eye contact Haytham poured his self into his words, for he wouldn’t brook any other outcome but one:

“I should have spoken however and I can only apologise. I know you sometimes have moments of…insecurity.” Charles smiled, as if laughing at his delicate manner of stating Charles’ moods. Haytham was unrepentant and smiling gently in return, saying, “Well, I shall speak clearly now. Charles, I am not leaving or casting you aside for anyone. In fact, I rather wish to keep you, if you would have me and vice-versa.”

Silence fell so Haytham asked, “Charles? Do you accept?”

Haytham’s heart was beating fast, the anticipation terrible and it was to his relief when Charles consented as long as Haytham was his too. Truly, Haytham had never been happier. Tender because of Charles’ pain from a hangover Haytham simply kissed him on the forehead, knowing they could bridge even his son.

Embracing Charles, Haytham’s thoughts turned impure – he would be a happy man when Charles was in his bed and had accepted his son and vice versa.

For now though Haytham focused on enjoying the fact that finally he had what he wanted: Charles Lee as a friend, boyfriend and eventually a lover. Even when Thomas with characteristic lack of grace disturbed them Haytham could only rejoice.

He would have to thank both Ziio and Thomas for this change in fortune and hopefully Charles wouldn’t be too touchy about Thomas being one of his deliverers.

= ^_^ =

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish to thank everyone for their support of this fic. It has been a ride, but an incredible, intriguing and happy one! I especially couldn’t have done this without my beta rae_fa who was instrumental in ensuring consistency, good English and for encouraging me in writing a four year old realistically. Thanks dear!
> 
> There is some repetition with wording at the end of this fic, but that is to keep it consistent with Chapter Two. :)
> 
> 1.) Charles Lee was historically very close to his sister Sidney. I simply lifted history into the present and decided they had their own little bit of land in modern day Britain. :) Considering we still have many of estates left (not all in the hands of the old families), it’s not too far a stretch and well, fiction suspension right!
> 
> 2.) Eton mess is a classic English dessert consisting of meringue, strawberries and cream:  
> http://www.deliaonline.com/recipes/main-ingredient/meringue/eton-mess.html


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